Prodigal Son
by at-a-glance
Summary: The only thing worse than being Danny Fenton's son was being Danny Fenton's only son. The world has high expectations for just what kind of person the son of Danny Fenton should be, and Ayden Fenton is not that person.
1. Dearly Beloved

_Authors Note: Well if you're anything like me and you've been around this community for a bit then you probably _hate_ Danny's children stories. I hate them. There is probably one or two that actually were worth reading I don't remember what.__ Also as a another note (rant) Danny's kid would not be a carbon copy of his father or mother, just because you know how to write for the characters on the show doesn't mean you get to plaster their personalities on a new character that happens to__ be their kid; that doesn't make sense. But anyway to honor my absolute loathing for something that is so ludicrously saccharine I have decided to make one of my own._

_Warning: This is not a happy story. There will be numerous complexes, alcoholism, self-loathing and pretty much all the psychological issues I feel someone who was born to a half-ghost super hero would experience. I mean come on people let's get real (and I mean real). I do hope some of you will enjoy this.

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Chapter One: Dearly Beloved

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The funeral was today; all the banks and post offices were closed and all the flags were at half-mast. The TV reporters were talking about the end of an era, and mourners invaded the streets with their momentums of condolence when the motorcade made its way to the graveyard. The entire nation was submerged in somber shock and despair.

And Ayden Fenton was drunk. Really, really drunk.

His one and only goal for today is to not throw up on the President of the United States.

The President of the United States who was sitting across from him in the fancy limo talking away about things Ayden couldn't pretend to follow. Somewhere through the haze that was making up his entire mind he heard the well dressed formal man explaining how he has every confidence in him and that he looks forward to working closely with him. They all can't wait to see what he has to offer.

But at the moment the bile was churning in his throat. The walls were closing in and he felt like everything was spinning out of control.

Now Ayden has a new goal today, to not throw up on the President of the United States twice.

The cemetery was filled with all of his father's friends and some enemies as well. Almost all of them had a black patch on with a familiar white emblem gracing it. There were people he recognized and people he wasn't sure he'd ever met before. In the distance he could see Tucker Foley and his family, the traditional red beret substituted for a black one. His Aunt Jazz was there, she was one of the last remaining members of his blood family; his grand-parents were long dead and his own mother dead long before his father. Jazz looked rather well considering the occasion, he was almost certain he saw her estranged daughter, his cousin Sarah, with her too. Ayden considered a possible conversation with them at some point but that notion was immediately forgotten when he considered vomiting again.

Standing in a stark red dress he could see Valerie looking not miserable but apathetically content. She was not one to show her emotions though he was certain the woman was absolutely devastated by the loss of her friend whom she had fought beside for many years. Ayden looked around and realized he hadn't seen these people in at least three years. It would have been longer if a phone call hadn't drawn him out of his sanctuary at college and now, just a few credits shy of a bachelor's degree, he was stuck at a funeral and ultimately stuck at FentonWorks. He couldn't go back after this.

There was surprisingly more security than he imagined, he himself had a personal guard who was following him closely, though he highly doubted anything would be started here. Everyone respected his dad, even the people who dedicated most of their lives trying to destroy him and everything he ever loved.

"Dude is that Paulina Sanchez?" his guard and closest friend whispered while motioning in the direction of a slim older looking woman who somberly smoked a cigarette under a tree.

"Shut up Johnny," he snapped, mostly because he couldn't see the woman that his noticeably taller friend could. "This is a funeral not a fan club for some has-been-starlette."

In her twenties and thirties Paulina was a knock out and she graced numerous magazines, calendars, and posters fueling a lot of teenage boys' fantasies. She was the Ferra Faucet of his generation, though Ayden was sure by now she looked less attractive and more like any woman her age. Perhaps it was no loss to him whether or not he would see her now.

"Don't look now but General Baxter is coming over here," Johnny stated nudging his black haired friend in the ribs. Ayden visibly sighed and sent a sneer towards his blond friend who hardly made a professional body guard. In return he shot his blue eyed friend a smirk before standing at attention as Dash drew closer; it was Johnny's job to look and act professionally, as long as no one important was looking.

"Ah well if it isn't young Ayden," General Baxter greeted looking at the short scrawny young man. "How are you holding up on this tragic day kid?"

Ayden looked the older gentleman over and remembers him from his youth. He was the head of communications and headquarters and was the one who sent his father on all the missions. A long time ago General Baxter was just a pig-headed young man who haphazardly signed up for the military. Almost everyone thought he'd be placed as a front line man and be killed but he excelled greater than any one in the army and gained a respectable and high rank over in U.S. army. Somewhere along the way Dash and Danny reconciled their high school differences and Dash joined Team Phantom as a body guard and a military leader.

"Actually sir, I'm not really that young anymore," Ayden muttered quietly averting his eyes away to stare awkwardly at the ground.

The General nodded, "I guess you have grown up quite a bit since we've last met. Your father would be very proud of you, seeing as how you're going to carry on his work. Just think of all the bastards he cheated by having that heart attack. They would've given anything to be the one to off him," he said with a slight laugh. "But he showed them-"

"Yeah right," Ayden couldn't hold his tongue, "he showed them by dying. Great job dad, way to prove a point."

The aging General shifted his position. "I'm sorry, this is a tough day for you kid, I didn't mean..."

Johnny nudged Ayden in the ribs sharply giving him a signal that he wanted his friend to stop being such a disrespectful jackass towards the people who practically raised him. Ayden didn't think that he could do that; he couldn't even look at them without seeing something of his dad, and he knew they couldn't look at him without seeing a stupid kid.

"Look, I'll um see you at the reception. I have to go find my Aunt," he explained lightly while stumbling away. Johnny followed him closely behind taking note of the swagger in his steps, he was not holding his liquor very well.

Ayden saw his aunt in the distance but had no real intention of talking with her, he only lied to the General to get away. She saw him first though and it was too late for him to run away. So he stood still and watched while blinking furiously as the aging red head came forward and instantly wrapped him in a startling embrace. She sighed his name and he realized she was starting to sound old.

"Oh Ayden, you..." she pulled away and held his shoulders frowning, "you smell like booze," she stated looking dissatisfied with her realization.

He looked at her and tried searching her face for some sort of understanding, but he knew she didn't understand at all. But he was also aware that he didn't care that she was disappointed even if she helped raise him. Even though she acted as his stand-in=mother when his own died when he was just a little boy, no older than five, he still didn't care what she thought he didn't feel like he owed her anything. In fact he didn't think he owed anyone who helped raise him for that matter; that was their choice not his.

His father was a renowned man who had a big circle of friends and a circle of enemies, he worked for the country he was a scientist and the superhero that every one always wanted. And what was he, his son, his son who inherited his abilities but none of that sense of duty. He didn't want to be his dad, he didn't want to save the world or be a super scientist, he didn't want the name or any of the responsibility to go with it. As of right now the only thing he wanted was to drink. He wanted to drink a lot.

"Ayden, you've got to grow up sometime you're twenty two years old and now you've got a big pair of shoes to fill."

He glared in response he couldn't begin to count how many people in the past few days have told him he's suddenly inherited his father's life. He didn't understand what they were thinking, he didn't have to be his father just because the old man was dead now. "Y'know Aunt Jazz, I don't think I'm cut out to be a Fenton let alone a Phantom."

She gave him a look like he had actually hurt her, though he told himself that she was devastated by the fact that her little brother was dead more than the fact her ungrateful nephew was drunkenly disclaiming his own birthright. But that woman, though her looks were fading, her mind was still as sharp as a whip and she offered him a sort of wry smile. "You know Ayden, I think you should've come sober today, perhaps you'd have a different perspective on the reason why people around you are here."

Then she was gone but the buzzing in his skull wasn't and by god was it painful. Facing Johnny he reached into his coat and drew out a flask and took a few good swigs before anyone noticed him. The hard liquor burnt his throat but it did the job just fine just the way he liked it. Johnny shook his head and patted his old friend's shoulder. Ayden shook his muddled head and wanted nothing more than to go home and knew well that he couldn't.

Keeping his distance, Ayden tried his best to remain unnoticed and happily intoxicated throughout the remainder of the ceremony. Of course that would be asking too much. The minister urged him to come up and say a few words, and he found himself frozen trying to figure out how he was supposed to get from where he was standing all the way over to the podium. Getting drunk was perhaps not the best idea. Of course, he'd also had enough to drink that he mostly didn't care when he tripped over someone's feet or when racked himself on a giant arrangement of flowers on his way to said podium. He was way past embarrassment and was no longer familiar with humility.

Standing in front of the crowd, he hesitated; he knew he was going to have to give a speech, he even wrote one out. Well he started to, but it was in his other coat, and it was only five scratched out sentences anyway. At least he was drunk so he could cross giving a damn off his list of things to do today. Besides how could he possibly be anymore of an embarrassment to his dearly departed father now when he acted like one his entire life.

When he finally started to speak, he was pleasantly surprised to realize that his voice didn't slur or shake as much as he thought it would. He launched into an extemporaneous speech, and by the time he started actually listening to what he was saying it was far too late to take it back anyway. "My dad is dead," he said in a matter-of-fact way. "It's weird to say it, it doesn't seem real, even when you say it. Dead. Danny Fenton is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead."

Later all the headlines would read "Danny Fenton's Son Driven Mad By Grief" and "Is This Our New Hero?" and other stupid things like that but right now he's just talking. He's not being all refined and dignified like he knew he should be, he's just talking about his dead father to a crowd of people who didn't even really know him anyway.

"It sounds strange right? And it sucks...for you. All you people who built your lives around him, makes you look pretty stupid right about now. I guess you all thought he'd never let you down, that you'd all keep playing forever and ever. Like some chess game and you were all his pawns but the Universe still toppled your king anyway..." He vaguely wondered why he was discussing chess and was forgetting where he was going with the idea.

"Anyway...it's over. King me, or something, I don't know I never really liked chess anyway, my dad always liked to play it though. Said it was all about, I don't know, how things fall into place through strategy," he paused and realized he's rambling. "But my point..." His eyes droop and he felt suddenly exhausted and began wishing desperately for some sleep or for the world to stop from making him so damn dizzy with its constant spinning.

"The point" he shouted a little too loud, he gripped the edge of the podium to keep himself from toppling over, "is he always wins, except for now 'cause he's dead. So now you'll have to figure out what the hell you are without him and it's kinda obvious that most of you aren't anything without him. Bunch of losers trying to live out some weird-o hero fantasy like complete-"

Suddenly Johnny grabbed his arm and tugged him away and Ayden wheeled around and began trying to pull away. "I'm talking here!" he yelled. "The nerve of some people, and at a funeral! What the hell?" But everything was going slower than he remembered and it sort of dawned on him that he was horribly drunk.

Ayden stopped for a moment and began to wonder if he said any of that out loud and now he couldn't remember what he was talking about before he was interrupted. He figured he should just pick the next best thing that came to him and wrap it up with that. But Johnny had enough and forced him away from the podium and hustled him through the crowd of the shocked blurry faces. "Good luck getting lives, idiots." Ayden shouted while being muscled away and he wondered if anyone was still listening to him or if they even wanted to. As soon as they got away from the cusp of the crowd Ayden tripped and immediately went crashing to the ground.

"Ow." He grasped his slightly scuffed and bleeding arm but didn't actually feel the pain. "What the hell is your problem, man?"

When he turned over to glare at his friend he found the blond man looking down on him coldly. His face was shaded strangely against the pale gray sky and he was shaking his head while making a low "tsk-tsking" sound like he was some old lady; a really judgmental old lady. "You threw up on the President and gave your father the worst eulogy ever given in the history of eulogies, and all in one day. Are you trying to win jackass of the year or what?"

He sat up cradling his arm and scoured. "What are you, my mom?" he spat and rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's right, I don't have a mom."

"Look if you want to make a fool of yourself no one is going to stop you. But I'm trying to be a good friend here and believe me you don't make it easy," Johnny said slowly extending an arm to help his friend up.

"Just leave me alone."

Johnny wrinkled his nose. "Fine, its not like you need any protection anyway, and it's no skin off my nose if you don't want me to drag your drunk ass back to the limo."

"I can manage on my own. Thanks. I am an adult."

"That's debatable," he heard Johnny huff. Then the shadow he was casting disappeared and Ayden realized he's alone now.

He sat with his head down between his bent knees for a while staring at the strangely green grass all the while trying to forget he was in a cemetery. He was exhausted and trying to fight off the urge to disappear because he knew he could. He knew that even if he did he'd still be in the same place anyway. He always hated when people used that expression, disappearing never solved anything.

He got the feeling someone has just taken a seat beside him and half-expected it to be Johnny. "Hello, kiddo." But it was Tucker, or Uncle Tuck, never Mr. Foley.

Tucker was one of those guys that took care of him when he was a kid and was also a real technology wizard. He couldn't count how many times with Tucker around that he was saved from anyone that took him hostage. All the locators, the hyper-jets, and all the technology his father used in his ghost fighting and heroics almost always came from and were programed by Tucker. He also remembered playing with the Foley children, even though they didn't like him much, and Tucker reading him bed-time stories when his father was away on particularly diplomatic missions. Ayden was never allowed to be left alone when Danny was out of town and usually Tucker or Jazz took care of him and on rare occasions even Dash.

"Ayden," the young adult muttered stubbornly.

He always thought Tucker would make a better father than his own and had been jealous of the ordinary lives the Foley kids led. While he was being held captive and having his life held ransom Tucker's kids went to school and did all the regular student things. They only had drills for fires and explosions when he had to suffer through actual explosions on more than one occasion and more fire-based things then he could count. They had no idea how lucky they were and how kind their dad was for not exposing them to his life with Team Phantom.

"Sorry Ayden. I guess you're all grown up now and want to be treated like the adult you are."

"It's not a big deal, I'm just not partial to nicknames," he responded and looked at the older man.

They sat together in silence for a while which Ayden liked; it was a decidedly refreshing to not have to listen to another person tell him over and over how sorry they were, and how much they loved his dad, or how much they're counting on him to be just like Danny.

"Tough day, eh?" Tucker finally asked.

"You could say that."

"You don't have to talk about it, I can leave you know."

Ayden waved it off. "No, it's alright, you were always the one of the few people I trusted."

Tucker smiled and the wrinkles in his face creased with the action. Ayden briefly found himself wondering how he'll age and wondered if he'll even live long enough to see it for himself. Tucker couldn't seem to stop smiling as he wrapped an arm around Ayden. "So many memories, so many good times. I always thought of you as kind of a nephew Ayden."

"I did have a separate room at your house," he chuckled slightly and thought how nice it was to have someone actually talking to him. Someone who didn't think of him as just a lesser duplicate of his dad. Someone who expected him to be his own person and not be anything but who he was.

Tucker laughed with him. "You were always such a bright boy. I always knew you were headed for great things."

And why not? Ayden felt a warm smile creep onto his face and he straightened his postured confidently. This was exactly what he'd been dying to hear; what he needed to hear. He needed to be reminded that this doesn't have to be a disaster, that _he_ doesn't have to be a disaster. After all he was Ayden Fenton, what kid didn't want to be him? Who's had more adventures and seen more action than him? Who else has super ghost abilities? Nobody, that's who.

Tucker patted him on the back and Ayden lost some of his new found balance. "You're a lot like him, you know."

"I-thanks, I appreciate that." He was surprised that he sincerely meant that he appreciated it. Whenever Tucker said things it didn't sound like mindless rhetoric, it always seemed more realistic, more truthful. So it meant something.

Finally Tucker reached into his pocket and handed him a strange looking gadget, much like a cell phone but with a video-screen. Ayden eyed it strangely and slightly recognized the model; his father might have had one he thought vaguely. It was a communicator, but this one wasn't a closed circuit one like he had when he was a kid. This meant any national leader, any U.S. military commander, any part of Team Phantom could reach him with distress signals at any time.

"You're gonna need this," he explained happily. "I redesigned your father's old one, this is more functional and has a built in locator so you wont need a separate one. It has all kinds of features and everything you'll need to be on top of things."

"Oh." His head suddenly felt heavier and his face felt hotter. He felt so stupid for ever thinking this was going to be any different.

The rage intensified as he stood up feeling as though he was about to explode. He was so stupid; so damn stupid to think that anyone would see him differently. That buzzing was back except now it was like an angry raging buzz. "I'd rather spend my life as a hermit than be everyone and their mother's go-to-guy," he snarled and tossed the gadget at Tucker's lap. "You're just like everyone else! You're nothing without my father!"

But Tucker didn't react he just watched him with this annoyingly infuriating bemused pity and Ayden could hardly hold back his puke. He tried to make a poignantly angry exit but instead tripped over his feet and fell. He thought he heard Tucker laughing but couldn't tell over the incessant buzzing in his skull. "You might as well have died with him for all the use you are with out him! Everyone needs to get it through their God damn heads, he's not coming back!"

As soon as he got his feet on the ground again he began to run, it was a clumsy stumbling run but it was going to get him far enough away from all the noise. He couldn't follow his own feet and had no idea where he was going and why he was trying to get there. He tripped over flowers and slammed through people but he forgot how to care. He fell again, this time near the edge of the cemetery where he could see the open grave and the people still surrounding it, all of them looking so small. He was screaming at the top of his lungs but not at Tucker, and not at anyone else, just his dad.

"You were never a good father, you couldn't even be there! You were always expecting me to be something I'm not! I'm not even sorry you're gone!" But it was all a lie. The truth was as long as his dad was alive, being his dad, he had a chance to be something else. Something different, he hadn't figured out just what that was, but he knew now he never would.

"Why couldn't you just wait? Until I knew what...until I knew who..."

For a moment it was deathly quiet and then the light drizzle slowly turned to heavy rain. Ayden wasn't sure if he was crying or not but he was thinking of his dad. Ayden remembered all the times his father held him close doting over him when he was too close to death, showing him how to "go-ghost", and all those strange lessons and interactions with the paranormal. He remembered the man being the only parent he ever had and how well he tried to fill the gaps in his son's life.

Danny Fenton had been the man everyone looked to in desperate times. Now people were looking at Ayden to guide them, he was supposed to be their hero now. He had to be the leader and he was supposed to set a good example just like his dad. This identity was his now whether he wanted it or not and he couldn't hide it anymore because there was nowhere left to hide. When his dad was around he didn't have to be the half-ghost hero because there was already one but now he was the only one; there was no one else people could turn to, there was only Ayden.

He knew he would never be half the man his father was, he wasn't brave or strong. He didn't have the ability to stand up and fight and think quick in desperate situations like his dad. He didn't even understand the concept of dying for others and knew it'd only be a disgrace to try and be like his dad. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't even close.

Finally he felt a strong pull under his arms as security helped him up, Johnny was there saying things to calm him, and he saw the crowd had gathered near him to see the manic spectacle he'd made of himself. They were far away from the coffin, away from the man they were here to mourn because his son went and made a damn fool of himself. Now he had finally out shined his father and he wasn't happy.

They were taking him back to the limo and he squinted against all flash bulbs popping and he realized he probably looked like a train wreck. He was enveloped with a sinking feeling because he knew the pictures would spread, and all the kids on campus would see them with the rest of the nation, and he can say goodbye to what little favorable reputation he had left. And of course any chance he ever had of sleeping with anyone. Ever. Everyone will remember how he hysterical he was, how insane he appeared, and how much of a stupid kid he really is.

But right now he wasn't worried about it because he's still drunk. Really, really, drunk. So drunk that if he sat quietly his vision would turn gray around the edges and close in until was black. Until he's not Ayden Fenton, or Ayden Phantom, or even Danny Fenton's son. Until he's not anything at all anymore. While on the brink of unconsciousness a happy thought lingered just before he slipped under.

Thank God for booze.

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_If you didn't read it before it was a oneshot previously but I really liked the idea of Danny's son of trying to reject his entire identity and then suddenly having to take on all the responsibilties his father left behind. Also a happy note you will be seeing Danny here in there in this story but he won't be like Hamlet's father, none of this ghost dad visiting grieving son. Anywho hold on tight kids this is gonna be a bumpy ride!  
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	2. Inferiority Complex

Chapter Two Inferiority Complex

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Two young men stood quietly in the looming aircraft hangar that had been built on the property, it being just one of three ridiculous structures that made up the FentonWorks compound. The tall blond man was fairly muscular and always stood rigid while his scrawny raven haired companion always looked like he was about to collapse because of the way he held himself, unbalanced and limp. One was proud and controlled; the other was insecure and disassociated, but regardless of these obvious differences the two made a compatible pair. Keeping a childhood friend was not an easy task to commit to yet somehow Johnny and Ayden stuck together through just about everything.

"So what are you going to do now?" Johnny asked lighting up a cigarette and regarding his ward, his friend, with an almost bored expression. The man was hung over from yesterday's disaster and was now rooting through his father's compound. Ever since he woke up, haggard and still belligerent he'd been running around the old home like a neurotic mess. He hadn't even bothered unpacking his things; he seemed far more interested in the old things still lying about the house. Ayden had faced a bit of a shock to find his old room exactly as he'd left it three years ago.

He groaned under his breath and pressed a hand to his forehead in attempt to assuage the pounding in his skull. "I don't know I have headache," Ayden groaned and rubbed his temples he sighed and shot a quick glance over at his friend and stood up right. For a moment the world spun and he was dizzy but he found a way to collect himself before falling over or puking; a new personal best. "But I guess I should pick up the pieces my dad left behind for me. I don't have a choice," he answered monotonously. "Team Phantom, FentonWorks, I just inherited it all. No matter how stupid and pointless it may be."

"I don't know Ayden; it was the empire your father created that saved this world from disasters of epic proportions more than once. He established something worth while," Johnny noted offhandedly, he unlike Ayden had been fascinated by Danny and everything the man had contributed to the world. He wasn't just a hero he was a philanthropist.

"He established a necessity. People wouldn't need to depend on it if he'd never created it in the first place. He deprived generations of adapting to new problems by building his scientific "super hero" industry. World leaders, military personnel, everyday people, they all rely on what he crafted. They rely on half-ghosts," he added in a scalding tone. As he dug further through a random box he'd found he tried to forget just what kind of power his father had and what he left him with. "You know if he'd had the mind to he could've run the entire world."

Johnny flicked his cigarette butt out of the hanger and it fizzled out under the drizzle of the late-afternoon. He watched his friend pace around the hangar in the corner of his eye. "He practically did from the looks of it."

"I guess...in his own way." The raven haired man shrugged as he ran his hand over the old Specter Speeder that was no longer used. He wanted to fix it up and at the same time he wanted to blow the whole compound to pieces. FentonWorks was just one large homage to his father's work and life. Ayden hated the idea of just having to live here let alone work on innovating and perfecting everything the "great" and late Danny Fenton had created.

"He could have very easily dismantled governments but he never did any of that. Never thought of it really, he was always caught up in this romanticized version of life. Heroes, damsels in distress, villains, the battle between good and evil. He drew the line like it was easily decipherable."

"Let me guess, it's not. You're so dramatic," Johnny laughed running a hand through his shaggy blond hair.

Ayden snorted. "People aren't just black and white, there are shades of gray you know," he irately explained feeling like he didn't owe an explanation to his friend. Bored and annoyed he strolled over to his father's desk, one of many desks placed within the seemingly never ending compound. Somehow there was order to this madness and Ayden needed to figure out the system again. This desk contained just some of the notes on his father's air crafts and transportation vehicles. His eyes fell on a brown frame and he slowly picked it up while staring deeply into his own eyes.

Like it or not reality was slowing catching up with him. His father had been a world renowned man; his father was dead now. Ayden was all that was left of the Fenton name. He was the existing legacy to a very rare and nearly extinct breed of human; he was the last and only Phantom.

No other half-ghosts existed anymore, Vlad Plasmius was destroyed years ago, Danielle Phantom destroyed over a decade ago, and now Danny Phantom as of last weekend no longer dwelled in halfa existence. Just like that; what seemed to be a growing trend inexplicably was now an official rarity and if Ayden didn't pass on his genes he would take with him that legacy.

The young adult was suddenly feeling very alone.

He'd always experienced loneliness as a child and well into his adult years, but this was different. Before there were others who could have an understanding of what it was like. Now no one in the vast universe knew what it was to be divided between the natural and paranormal world and to add to this burden the weight of world had been thrust upon him. His hands began to shake as his grip tightened on the frame. He may have drifted from his father over the past couple of years but it was comforting to know a man like him was out there. Someone who could easily comprehend his situation and maybe add some explanation to it, but that man was gone and Ayden was alone, more so than he'd ever known.

Releasing the frame he'd been gripping, he let it going crashing to floor. Ayden brushed briskly past his friend walking out of the hanger into the rainfall the look on his blank. Johnny frowned as he walked over glancing at what could only be a photograph. Turning it over he saw the photo under the glass of a boy sickeningly similar to the man, together both were smiling. He shook his head at the sight of his friend's silhouette disappearing in the gray blur.

This was clearly the beginning of something terrible.

Ayden sat exhausted at a dimly lit local bar. He couldn't bring himself to go back to the compound; everything of the past was there, everything from his childhood, everything he'd desensitized himself to or so he thought he had. He threw his head back to swallow another shot of vodka trying desperately to drown the image out and anything else for that matter. He wanted it all to go away before it really started to bother him.

_Here today gone tomorrow!!! _A flier advertised in bold excited letters on a clean sheet of paper across from where Ayden had taken his seat. He sneered at it reading the four words over and over until they were imprinted in his mind, until it was the only slogan he knew. If anyone asked him what he thought he might mindlessly repeat it as though the words were his own. He didn't even know what they were advertising and he didn't care.

But that stupid picture, the slogan in his mind appeared beneath it, in bright clumsy letters with three exclamation points. Mentally he shredded the image, tearing away at every attachment his naive younger self had held when that picture was taken. He knew what the words meant, the very existentialist pretension they carried, but people seemed to obfuscate meaning or perhaps they chose to bastardize it. He held his hand up for another shot; some things were more obvious than others.

For now he was trying to drink that picture away and he was waiting. Waiting because he knew Johnny's job was to guard his body and to do so he needed to be within a good distance. Also Johnny was his best friend and it would only be a matter of time before he was standing behind him. At the same time he hoped he never came looking for him, he hoped the man would give up on him. Johnny must've been a saint because even Ayden couldn't put up with himself half the time.

The familiar feeling of self-loathing wracked him and he hunched his back to try and appear as small and unnoticeable as possible. That endeavor was impossible as he bore the exact resemblance and he could never escape the prying eyes and low whisperings. They knew his heritage, it was written all over his face.

"Ain't you that Fenton kid?" The voice struck him, the sharp accusing inflections of the brassy tone deaf voice grated his nerves. Almost the entire bar had been staring at him since he'd entered but he had dreaded that one of them may actually start to talk to him. Mostly, his conversations with people were degrading at best.

Swallowing his fourth shot of vodka with a throaty grunt, Ayden finally decided to acknowledge the stranger. "I'm not a kid," he murmured keeping his head down and his shoulders tensed. He rubbed his neck as part of his nervous habit, the knuckle of his index finger always came up to meet the same spot. Whenever he felt anxiety or stress he always touched his neck and for those who got a close enough look at him it was pretty obvious why. Almost every time someone started an unpleasant conversation with him he always felt like a caged animal. He wasn't trapped, he was never trapped, he could always leave and if he was held back he could go unconventionally. Another supposed perk of his inheritance.

"Well you ain't no man like yer father was," he slurred. The man was intoxicated, he pulled at the rim of his red cap while clenching and unclenching his jaw. His steel eyes searching the young adult with curious loathing, even he wasn't sure when he'd started hating the kid he just knew one day he did and so did everyone else. If everyone else disliked the youth then that made it right, the heir deserved no respect.

Ayden slowly made eye contact unaware of the impact his recognizable ice blue eyes made on people. If he didn't know better the man could've sworn he was dealing with Danny Fenton; lucky for him it was only Ayden. "I'm not like him, no. But that doesn't make me any less of a person."

"It does make you a coward though." The courage, undoubtedly was coming directly from the man's whiskey coupled with his inherit ability to stick his foot directly in his mouth. He'd never met Ayden Fenton before but he knew he hated him more than anything. "Your responsibilities aren't hardly anything on account of those powers you were so _gifted_ with. Us normal people, we're the true fighters, we don't got any ghost powers to aid us in our wars and yet we stand up unflinching while you hide behind yer name."

Ayden's eyes narrowed and he became aware with the crawling of his flesh that they'd flashed. He hated his eyes; he hated how he couldn't always reign in his emotions. Among the halfas of the world this condition was referred to endearingly as "the scary eyes" a term Ayden absolutely despised. Maybe because his "scary eyes" were violet, perhaps the least threatening of all colors to the masculine world and a painful reminder of what he didn't have.

He threw his money on the bar and eyed the man. He stood up and watched the man slowly begin to tense up and recoil as though he expected Ayden to attack him. Instead he shook his shoulders and gave the man a passive glance. "Then you can be the hero," he offered callously while leaving the unwelcoming atmosphere with nothing left but the cold air that his words seemed to have created.

Once outside he shivered and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark gray landscape enshrouded in rain. He flipped up the collar of his coat as he walked in the rain; he could easily get home by simply flying or stay dry by becoming intangible. He refused to do either one. He hated using his powers unless it was absolutely necessary and even then he disliked it. The air was cold and the main road leading back to the compound in five miles was surprisingly empty. The road seemed abandoned without a single headlight daring to shine on the unkempt pavement.

Ayden couldn't shake the jumbled thoughts from his head, he was more confused then he'd ever been. He wasn't entirely sure if he was upset that his father was dead or upset that his destiny had always been amounting to this. He'd always been anxious over this inescapable path and only a few months ago he thought he was coming to the light at the end of the tunnel. Freedom. He was breaking free from his predetermined identity and was making life his own. For a while he was starting to believe that he didn't have to be Ayden Fenton the half ghost Phantom of Team Phantom. For a while he convinced himself he could be just Ayden, the guy who got his degree and worked for a living; no limelight, no press, no expository stories, nothing. Then the old man kicked the bucket and just like that the doors were shut and he was restricted to the old four walls he'd been brought up in.

He couldn't escape his path; it had always been this from the moment he'd been born. He had no choice in the matter and never would. Grinding his teeth the young adult looked forward through the haze of the rainfall. He was drenched to the bone but couldn't feel it. He shivered and pulled himself closer together, partly to retain heat and partly to keep himself from falling apart; the threat of the latter was very real, at least he felt that it was.

His mind swirled around his confrontation with that man, the way he spoke to him, like he wasn't worthy of respect like he wasn't human. People always thought the worst of him because people were more perceptive then he liked to admit. They were always right when they called him cowardly or selfish, he knew he had so much more than others could ever obtain. But they never understood that he didn't ask for it, his personality did not match what he was expected to be. He knew he was all the terrible things they thought and he stopped justifying himself.

Truth was he hated himself more than they could ever hate him.

Somewhere along the five miles from the bar to the compound Ayden heard an unmistakable cry for help. He sighed audibly just as a short wisp dictating his next actions made itself present. Grumbling with disdain Ayden allowed the transformation to take him and in the young adult's place stood a spry looking ghost, not unlike the once great Danny Phantom himself. The slight differences were sometimes overlooked but other times were so blatantly obvious that people would resist Ayden's brand of heroics until the situation escalated to exigent proportions.

Ayden's father had taught him never to ignore a cry for help. He said it could be the difference between life and death and the people would turn it against him if he decided not to respond. It was one thing to respond, he had said, and find it was a false alarm but it is quite another to ignore the pleas only to have someone's death on your shoulders. Some days Ayden wished he was deaf.

The creature was large and disproportionate; its spine was harshly protruding from its ashen gray back. It was one of the inhuman ghosts, the ones that looked like monsters that no one could explain. Some claimed they were demons, his grandfather said they were just shattered spirits that found a new form. Either way Ayden disliked them the most because they acted on the most primal instincts and didn't understand battle strategy, they just attacked to kill.

"Orb," the creature growled holding a man no older than Ayden ten feet in the air. When it choked out the human words green saliva dripped from it's large crooked toothy jaw. It was not familiar with human language nor was it even familiar with talking, but it wanted something and it was going to get it.

The man turned his face away shaking. His short black hair was now splattered with green goo from the creature; the look in his eyes was wild with a fear of death. "S-someone...h-h-help!"

Ayden immediately charged at the creature from behind, throwing its unbalanced composure completely off and causing it to drop its victim. The disgruntled ghost turn around and violently thrashed at Ayden with its gruesomely large claws. Ayden attacked back forcefully; whenever he was hurt in a fight he only became angry. The monster leaped at the young Phantom and pinned him to the ground placing its ashen snout uncomfortably close to his face. He could see the swirling crimson eyes in full detail and could smell the death wafting from its jagged mouth.

"Orb," it demanded throatily. The half-ghost struggled under its claws, the beast must've been over ten feet tall and when tangible it weighed probably over five hundred pounds. The young Phantom hated that ghosts could have weight because this one was crushing him.

"Get off of me!" Ayden shouted and vaulted the disgusting creature off of him with a powerful blast of energy. After a few more moments of abuse the ghost vanished. Rubbing his neck nervously at the retreat of the creature, he couldn't understand what it had wanted but it had specifically attacked for a reason. The single fact that it had tried to make demands was more than enough to set off warning signals. For now he'd ignore that thing; as long as it didn't come back or as long as it only came after him everything was going to be fine.

He turned his attention to the victim who was writhing on the ground holding his arm and making pained grunts through his teeth. "Oh man, are you okay?" Ayden asked as he hoisted the man who was roughly his age and pretty similar in appearance off the ground. Another warning sign Ayden was going to choose to ignore, sure it registered but he tucked the worry away rationalizing that he would think about it later.

"You're useless," the man snapped and let out a gasp for having jerked his arm.

"I think it's broken," the half-ghost observed softly trying to ignore the man's hostility. "Maybe I should take you to a hospital."

"Are you kidding?" he scoffed, "I'd rather take my chances with that…that monster than have _you_ take me anywhere. I'll find my own way there thank you very much."

Ayden frowned and followed the man a little behind as he limped down the road. The man kept his face sour as he tried to ignore the strange half ghost hovering just a few feet from him. He tried to forget how eerie it was to see someone he knew was a human moving without any legs. "Are you sure? I mean the hospital is pretty far and you don't look so good," Ayden pursued as he came to block the man's way. He may have not enjoyed being a hero but that didn't mean he had no humanity at all; he clung to what was left of his faith desperately and hoped one day to be rewarded with a reciprocated respect.

"Gee I wonder why?" he snapped his dark blue eyes reflecting rage as he walked through the half-ghost, shivering as he did so. "This is all your fault you know. If it weren't for you and your ghost freakishness that thing never would've attacked me!" he shouted while waving his uninjured arm about dramatically.

"I didn't mean to...I tried," Ayden returned in a helpless stammer, recoiling after having been passed through as though he weren't even there. He was so insignificant people didn't even bother to pretend like they had to walk around him.

"You tried? If you tried then why the hell am I injured? You are the worst human being to ever have existed; you're nothing but a freak. Stay away from me; I don't need _your_ help."

The stranger stalked off, limping away mostly, and Ayden let him go. He, unlike his father before him, knew when to let people go because he knew when he wasn't welcome. Transforming dully and landing skillfully on his feet after a short drop, he stood in the rain for a moment squinting to see the form disappear into the gray. Sure he could have fought the guy who was clearly ungrateful but he had bigger things to worry about, like perhaps the multimillion dollar establishment and the diplomatic responsibilities resting unbalanced on his weary shoulders. Not to mention he was going to have to face an onslaught of disapproval for his actions yesterday, not from the public, but from his makeshift family.

Ayden turned away to continue his own trek back home rubbing his neck weakly as he went. At least he could handle the public's response to him; he was used to the way they acted. This was always his hero's welcome; every where he went every time he utilized his ghost half he was treated with the same response; bitter accusations and ungrateful graces. They always wanted to be saved just not by him, they'd take his help but they repaid him with hostility. Ayden was not beloved amongst the people he was a nuisance. Shaking off the slight tinge of bitter disappointment Ayden continued walking and tried to forget just how useless he was.

Forgetting wasn't easy.

* * *

_Thank you all for the nice reviews, its so nice to hear some feedback s'much appreciated. I must say I love how pathetic this kid is. And it doesn't stop there...  
_


	3. Public Images

Chapter 3 Public Images

---

"What have you done?" a voice echoed in the quiet of the aftermath.

The frightened twelve year old pushed himself to his feet and looked around, the Nasty Burger was gone and he had to assume so were the people inside. His left arm hung uselessly to the side as he stood barely able to support his own weight as more and more people seemed to pour from the streets to gawk at the destruction now in the center of their town and the preteen that was standing in the midst of it. Ayden gripped his arm and tried to focus his vision as more strangers came to stare at him, no one helped.

"I saw the whole thing!" someone cried accusingly. "He did it."

"N-no I-I..."

"Murderer!"

The crowd became more rallied as they pulled tighter together to cast their accusations and disgust on someone they trusted to be a hero. The Nasty Burger was a popular spot for various teenage groups to hang out and for families to take their children for the fast food. There was never a day when the Nasty Burger was empty and now it was gone and not everyone who had been inside had come outside.

A foul smell mixed with the falling ash and scent of fire reached Ayden and he crinkled his nose and tried to not vomit. He shook violently and took a step forward only to fall on his knees. He looked at the crowd and shook, they weren't interested in helping him not now that they were convinced he'd destroyed the establishment and the unlucky lives trapped inside. Tears reached his eyes as he searched for his voice or a stronger voice to argue his case. He couldn't have done this, he was trying to protect those people like he was taught to. He'd never been a ghost fight alone before, he was never without his dad. His first try by himself was a horrific failure and it seemed all of Amity Park witnessed it.

Suddenly an undulation ran through the crowd and screams echoed as they diverged and scattered. A sharp missile cut through the air and hit the ground a few feet from where Ayden was kneeling. He rocketed backwards and skidded across the debris before landing against a large hunk of fallen wall. Suppressing a gasp he reached for his ghost powers desperately, a small white light fizzled out at his waist before he had a chance to even partially transform. He rolled sideways just barely avoiding being burnt by an ecto-ray and leaped to his feet and began to run; he'd spent his ghost energy in the initial fight. Usually this was the part where his dad came in and rescued him from certain death but he very well couldn't expect the man to know he was in trouble when they weren't even on the same Continent. All Ayden could do now was run.

People would later deem this the ultimate act of cowardice from the boy.

He dodged the blasts on his feet as best as he could and tried to remember his training. Somehow all those practice runs and educational real-time ghost fights weren't helping him now. He'd already forgotten half of the strategies Danny had painstakingly tried to drill into his head for just such occasions. Now Ayden regretted all the times he'd told his father he was ready to do this on his own. Clearly, when it was his time to step up to the challenge he fell short. People were probably dead and more might die if they didn't get out of the way; worst still he couldn't do anything about it.

Quickly Ayden found himself lying face down on the pavement, having taken an ectoblast to the back. He groaned and tried to get back up but felt someone, or something else do it for him.

"This has been most amusing, I must admit. But sadly all this fun has to come to an end, the hunt is over whelp." Ayden found himself staring face to face with the self-proclaimed Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter, who he now had to relinquish himself to. The ghost was right, this fight was over and Ayden was not the victor.

"Drop the kid!" a familiar voice shouted and before Ayden knew it he was back on the ground again. He was too afraid to get back up, his want to run away was drowned down by his unwillingness to face the world.

The ringing in his ears didn't stop when someone pulled him up and cradled him and for a while he refused to open his eyes. That is until a roaring voice that was unmercifully close to his ear began erupting in a series of angry shouts. He looked up to see an orange jacket and even further up to see the worn face of his grandfather. Looking over he saw two men in formal white suits with guns drawn who appeared just as angry as his grandfather.

"Just hand him over, this is a job for our agency. He's violated ecto-law."

Ayden winced, he hadn't meant to break the law.

"He didn't violate anything, he's just doing what you all expect halfa's to do. He can't help it if things got out of hand, it wasn't in his control."

He tried to shrink down in the man's arms. He was scared.

"We'll decide if he's responsible but first we need to detain the ectoplasmic entity for the safety of the citizens."

His eyes widened. Was he really that dangerous?

"No way, you're not arresting a twelve year old child." Ayden blinked back the sudden urge to cry.

"Sir we will have the local authorities arrest you for disorderly conduct if you don't hand him over."

He suppressed a whimper. He couldn't let this happen.

"Just give up the ghost Jack" "Yeah Fenton, that kid isn't worth it" The crowd began to chime in. Their faces looked ashen and empty against the gray of the foreboding sky. Each individual in the small crowd was now rallying for the imprisonment of a child that had only tried to save them.

"Grandpa?" a meek voice croaked breaking Jack's intensity. "Just let them have me, I-I'm sure dad will sort this out...don't get in trouble because of me."

"Kiddo you're hurt, I need to take care of you not let these jerks lock you up."

"I'll be fine," Ayden reassured as Jack helped him to stand.

He walked with his hands tightly gripped on the boy's shoulders over to where the two Guys In White agents stood. One of them lowered his weapon and pulled out a pair of glowing handcuffs that he placed on the youth's hands. Jack gave him a cautionary glare at the restraint.

"Precautionary method sir, we can't have him escaping." He was lying of course but he didn't need to tell the truth when he was in a position of authority.

"He's going willingly," Jack seethed through clenched teeth. "Listen kiddo, hang in there I promise this won't go too far," Jack said gently to the youth relenting to release his grip on the boy; he was almost certain he was the only thing keeping him standing.

The agent was becoming agitated and wasn't going to give the elder Fenton any more time. There were angry citizens he had to satiate and there was bound to be an excess of questioning and paperwork to go along with this case. Ayden gave his grandfather one last look over his shoulder as the well-dressed agent led him towards their anti-ghost vehicle.

"I'll get your dad Ayden, don't worry."

Ayden stayed behind the walls of his anti-ecto containment cell for three days. He was not granted visitors and he had no way of knowing what the outside world was doing. He wasn't aware he was branded a villain or that his reputation was permanently tarnished by the accident that would later be reported as not his fault. The old saying always said you can't un-ring the bell and this was a bell that would toll well past his youth. People would never forget their fears relating to the strange boy and would never trust him like they did his father, as far as they were concerned he'd done nothing to earn respect.

He was born a half-ghost not a hero.

As the second day neared its end Ayden had to wonder if his father was ever coming. He'd expected that it would take a little longer than he had wanted for Danny to make it to Amity Park but he hadn't thought it would take more than a day. He sat quietly within the tiny white cell that had what looked like glass wall separating him from the the hallway that agents would come down every once in a while. He learned early on that it wasn't glass but a strange version of his family's ghost shield; touching it hurt, a lot.

He constantly felt sick and he wanted to go home. He'd received basic medical attention after having arrived here but it didn't make him feel better. He was tired and hardly given any time to think. His precious moments alone were spent wondering where his dad was and why he wasn't being released. Technically the only thing he had done was lose control of a fight he wasn't ready for to begin with. The agents refused to believe him, if he was the only survivor from the inside of the Nasty Burger than he had to have _known_ that the place was going to explode. They explained viciously that they only let "half-ghost punks" like him run around as long as said half-ghosts contributed to the protection of the town, not the destruction.

As Ayden had learned within the first hour of his first session with the Guys in White, ghost hybrids weren't allowed to make mistakes. He couldn't just pass this off as an accident, they refused to accept that and let him go free. Maybe he deserved this, as time wore on he was contemplating seriously taking the blame. Ultimately, they were really close to badgering the already insecure child into believing he had killed the people who perished. The Guys in White would never know just how much of the blame Ayden would take on later in his life.

As for his stay the agents all made sure to make it as uncomfortable as possible; he was being punished after all. They didn't let him sleep for long and they didn't feed him much either. If he complained of pain or hunger or the simple need for sleep they'd avoid him completely and go on with their endless questions. When they woke him up from any merciful naps he managed to get in, they always did it as roughly as possible. Shaking, poking, even shocking him once when he really couldn't get back up. They didn't want to injure him but they didn't want to show him much compassion either.

The people here were convinced that he was either the master of, or a pawn in, some devious ghostly revenge plan. He asserted that he was only trying to live up to his Phantom responsibilities but he'd never fought alone; he couldn't count how many times he apologized for not being good enough. Still it seemed none of the agents believed him even when he passed a polygraph test.

The head of the agency just didn't trust him because he just didn't like ghosts. He perpetuated the hatred throughout his employees and they followed obediently. Danny was only tolerated by the GIW because his efforts in the paranormal field could help benefit the agency; they could make money off an international hero. As for his not famous hybrid son, well the boy hadn't shown any promising signs so far, they imagined he'd be about as useless as Vlad Masters in making them money; maybe he'd be as evil too.

Ayden didn't fully understand what was happening anymore. The longer he stayed here the more confused he had become. They talked him circles, stated the opposite of what he said as though it were fact, and tried to scare him. They showed him the devices they used on "uncooperative" ectoplasmic beings and warned him if he continued to lie they would have to be more drastic in their methods.

He didn't understand at all. He was cooperating as far as he knew, he'd even volunteered to come here if for nothing else to save his grandfather a world of trouble. His grandfather whom they said he wasn't allowed to talk to, him and everyone else in the Team Phantom circle. The agents explained they didn't want him to develop a perception outside of his own during the investigation. Except he was confused, this didn't feel like an investigation so much as a witch hunt.

Ayden was too young see the politics behind his punishment and the injustices due to their prejudice. He was convinced, and would forever be convinced, that he had done something wrong.

Slowly the twelve year old, feeling as though he had some time, curled into a tight ball on the floor. They hadn't provided beds in the cell since the Guys in White didn't anticipate actually holding a human. He rested his head on the cold white floor, the same hard material as the walls, and shut his eyes.

Maybe this time they wouldn't be able to wake him up.

--

Danny had been reached much to the father and daughter's relief. Both Jazz and Jack had rallied together in order to contact Danny in any way which had been unquestionably difficult because the only thing they knew about this particular business trip was that he was in France. Everything else had been confidential, due the French government's wishes. Danny could only get calls on his cell phone or communicator which he was never around when he was out on these sorts of trips. Usually he could leave whoever he had taking care of Ayden with a long list of emergency numbers.

But this time he had to cut himself off from outside communications due to the wishes of his clients.

Because Danny knew he'd be so far away and so unreachable he had opted to leave his son with his father. He had been confident in his dad's ghost hunting abilities and experience with protecting children from disaster after disaster. He'd only be gone for a week, a week and a half tops; certainly nothing could happen in that time frame that Jack Fenton couldn't handle. Danny hadn't thought anything could possibly go wrong, but that was his first mistake.

Jazz had found the independent business Danny was stationed with and had managed to get a hold of them. She implored the woman on the other end of the phone in broken French that she needed to talk to her brother; she mentioned there had been an accident. Which is exactly what a worried and confused receptionist informed Danny of, there had been an accident.

Danny dropped what he had been working on, startling his fellow scientists. "W-what?" he asked weakly as he began to feel sick. Given the fact that someone had gone to great lengths to find him when he hadn't told anyone where he was, something bad had to have happened. Something bad always happened when he wasn't around.

"Monsieur, the phone," the woman said as she gestured for him to follow her.

His heart pounded as he stared at the black phone with the blinking red light, signifying someone was waiting on the other line; someone with bad news. Bad news he probably wasn't ready for. Biting his lip he picked it up and gave a shaking greeting to whoever was waiting. He immediately was bombarded by his sister's voice as she launched into a frantic explanation that the Nasty Burger had blown up and Ayden had been there and people were dead and it was all over the news.

"Is he alright?" Danny returned feeling like he'd been under a rock for the past week. He also was on the verge of throwing up, because his son could be seriously hurt if not worse and he was so far away. Not to mention that the old fear he had of a certain Nasty explosion ruining his life had suddenly and unexpectedly reappeared. There was a pause on the other end causing Danny to grind his teeth. "Jazz?" Danny urged tensely.

"I-I don't know I didn't see him, dad didn't get a good enough look at him before they took him. He said he looked pretty beat up."

"_They_ took him? Whose they? Where is he?" Danny was far more frazzled at this point. Everything she had just said could mean anything, Ayden was in serious trouble no matter what had happened.

"The Guys in White," she reported firmly. "They 'detained' him and he hasn't been released in over two days. Neither of us can see him and they won't tell us anything. They're trying to justify it by saying we're not his legal guardians. Danny he needs you."

"I'm on my way."

Six hours and one tense flight later Danny had arrived in Amity Park and he was angry. He not only neglected to alert his family that he was home and going to get Ayden but he also decided using the door and respecting the agency was not something he was going to do. He appeared immediately in the center of the building where the Guys in White conducted most of their research and all of their experiments. Six hours of travel had given him plenty of time to get the details on just what had happened in Amity.

"Where_ is_ he?" the vengeful halfa roared, his green eyes flaring intensely. No matter what they thought, Danny knew there was no way the Guys in White were justified for keeping his son locked up.

A wide-eyed female agent stood up from her desk, surprised by the ghostly intrusion. "Mr. Fenton, we detained him under Anti-Ecto law paragraph one-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Danny interrupted in a hurried agitated voice, other agents gathered nearby to stare at the enraged Danny Phantom. Everyone had been nervously anticipating his arrival; they knew he wouldn't be thrilled to know they had him. "I don't really care what stupid made-up paragraph you're going to pretend to quote. Where is my son and why have you not released him? Nothing he could have done could warrant this kind of treatment. I know my son and-"

"And he's under investigation for murder," interjected one of the heads of this particular branch of the agency. He was a tall leather skinned man with hard gray eyes and a cruel smile; he went by Agent J if Danny could remember right. "Better we have him than oh say the Amity Park Police Department. If anything we're protecting him from them, you wouldn't want him in jail now would you?"

"Given the choice I'd rather he wasn't being held by soulless government agents," Danny returned, choking back the man's explanation. Murder, they were trying to accuse his son of murder. He kept reminding himself the Guys in White blew everything out of proportion especially instances involving a Fenton. They were especially tentative when it came to Ayden; a new halfa meant the potential for new problems. If anything they had just been waiting for something like this to happen, for a reason to obtain a hold on Ayden.

"I'm not going to ask again, where are you holding him?" Danny growled clenching his hands into tight fists. If they continued to ignore his simple question he had no problem tearing this place apart to find him. Nothing good ever happened to ghosts at the GIW agencies, Danny knew that for a fact. Hell, he'd work with them on a few projects and they certainly hadn't been concerned with ecto-humanity. "_J_?"

"Where else but the holding facility, I believe you still remember where that is," the agent replied and followed Danny closely as the over-protective halfa took flight down the corridors of the starched white building.

Danny moved quickly past each empty cell and a few occupied with ghosts he had never seen. Finally he stopped dead in front of one, the translucent shield still glowing at a high level of intensity. The occupant was lying on the floor curled up with his back facing the inescapably large makeshift window. He had to use every ounce of self-restraint he had to stop himself from touching the barrier. He couldn't tell through the shield just how bad the boy looked; his body language alone was telling a very graphic story. Danny shot J a fierce look and the higher level agent pulled out a plastic key shaped item and inserted it into the small computer lock on the wall beside the cell. The shield dissipated and Danny rushed in to his son's side, his hand gently resting on his back.

The boy winced violently at the sudden contact and opened one eye to see a familiar face bent over him. "D-dad?" He still felt like he was sleeping and he couldn't believe that the man was actually there. For a while he was starting to believe that everyone, including his only parent, had given up on him.

"I'm here, it's okay Ayden," Danny soothed. "I'm gonna take you home."

Long ago, a little after the boy was born the Guys in White wanted the child, claiming that since he was born a half ghost he was an absolute anomaly and needed to be tested. Both mother and father refused and became enemies of the agency. They didn't stop there; eventually Danny caught wind of the agency's secret paperwork that would have legally allowed them to take Ayden. He destroyed the documents in secrecy and sent the GIW back a few years. Still, he had to face facts, they had found a loophole; technically Ayden wasn't fully protected by human rights because he wasn't fully human and had never been. The Guys in White Agency was readily trying to exploit this, they could never get Danny through the same loophole but they would get his boy.

So when Ayden turned seven and Danny had a better grip on understanding the growth and level of his son's powers he drew up a contract with GIW operatives and they built what was essentially a treaty. The agency promised to leave Ayden alone as long as the boy didn't commit any crimes and Danny agreed to work with them whenever they needed him to for whatever reason, he also had to forfeit some information on the ecto-levels and impurities in his son. This hadn't been a great deal for Danny considering his past differences with the Guys in White but it kept Ayden safe. Danny had wanted to keep them away from him for more than a handful of reasons. Most importantly he had to ensure that his son didn't become their personal lab rat.

Ayden never knew about this, Danny wanted to keep him ignorant. He didn't want his son to think he was less of a person because of who he was. Unfortunately, the father knew deep down that eventually they were going to shatter the boy's reality; eventually they were going to deface him.

Agent J and another agent stood at the door as Danny stood up and tried to help the exhausted child to his feet. Ayden stumbled and found himself gripping his father's arms for support as he tried to find his feet; he'd been curled in that fetal position for hours. "What did you do to him?" Danny interrogated sharply as he turned his head to look at the agents. "Experiments? Torture? What sick methods did you use to try and convince him he did something wrong?"

"I assure you Mr. Fenton the only time we touched him was to provide him with medical assistance," J returned with a coy smile.

Danny sneered at him, hating the man's smug condescending way of talking. He reached down and scooped his struggling child up into his arms. "I'm sure you're a filthy liar, consider our business ties broken," Danny announced. "Oh and by the way, I already got word from the Ghost Zone that a certain ghostly Hunter has been bragging about destroying the Nasty Burger and killing those people. You can also consider your "investigation" over and this case closed."

--

"What are you doing?" Danny asked as he poked his head into the garage to find his twelve year old tensely fiddling with his skateboard.

"Can't get this stupid bearing into the wheel," Ayden growled as he pounded the small metal ring into the center of the wheel against the smooth concrete of the garage that double as an aircraft hangar and work space.

"Ayden," Danny called gently as he walked over to the frustrated child. He couldn't help but notice a few pin-hole marks on the boy's arm. What if they had managed to take blood or inject him with something? He didn't know, the agents certainly wouldn't tell him and Ayden even two days after the ordeal wouldn't talk about what happened within those walls.

"Dad not now I'm busy."

"Ayden."

"If it would just go in I could-"

"_Ayden_," Danny interrupted loudly making the youth perk his head up and stop working. "You do realize it's two a.m. right?"

Ayden paused and looked over his shoulder to find his father was now behind him and looking genuinely concerned. Somehow he knew he wasn't quite in his right frame of mind yet he'd ignored that nagging notion. "I-I'm fine dad."

"Ayden," Danny sighed and squatted beside his son. "Talk to me?"

Ayden gripped the wheel loosely and rested a hand on the board with a sigh. "There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine."

Danny shook his head and took the wheel from his son, with ease he was able to force the bearing into the wheel with his thumbs. He handed the wheel back to his exhausted and no longer fixated son. "You haven't slept in days." Ayden looked away as he began to put the last wheel on the truck with quiet concentration; it wasn't hard work but he was trying to avoid his father's concern.

"I know you're getting the nightmares again," Danny pursued, watching while the boy took his time installing a bolt to secure the wheel on the well loved skateboard. He could see even at angle he was at there were dark circles indicating exhaustion around the boy's eyes. Danny rubbed the back of his neck; he was terrible at talking about things that made him uncomfortable. However, the silence wasn't any more comforting.

"You wouldn't understand," Ayden finally said having no more work to hide behind.

"That doesn't mean we can't talk it through."

"No I mean...I just...I'm not good enough. I'm never gonna be good enough."

"What are you talking about?" Danny asked softly as he tapped his shoulder.

"Don't you get it? I messed up, _again_! People were counting on me and I failed; another ringing endorsement for the World's biggest screw-up."

Danny's smile lessened and looked levelly at the child who he knew was experiencing a level of torment Danny could sympathize with. He'd blown up the Nasty Burger once too and had managed to wipe out all his family and friends. Of course this was in a different time line and had never actually happened but that didn't mean Danny didn't witness it nor did it mean that he didn't carry the burden of it. In fact he thought about it almost daily, his powers had devastating potential; all ghosts harbored devastating potential, even Ayden.

"I don't want you to linger on what happened. No matter what they told you, what lies have spread, it wasn't your fault. You did what you could and that's all anyone can ask of you."

"Whatever."

"Ayden, come on. There's nothing wrong with-"

"Don't you have a flight to catch tomorrow?" Ayden interjected bitterly as he looked away from Danny. He couldn't stand anything anybody said even if it was encouraging. He didn't know how to take accusations and knew less about taking encouragement. All he wanted to do was be alone, possibly forever.

"You know I can't just abandon that project." He could see the boy's face growing more solemn, maybe even betrayed.

Danny hadn't considered when he agreed to go back to France as soon as the situation was placated that maybe Ayden would be afraid of being alone. He would always fear being alone well into adulthood. Ayden's maladjustment had become worse from the accident, now he realized he couldn't rely on anyone not even himself. He looked at his father with dismay and wondered how, after what had happened, his father could just leave him again. He didn't quite understand the workload and pressure Danny was under; he would never understand completely.

Danny sighed dropping his tone as he leaned toward the boy; it wasn't as if he wanted to leave again but this wasn't exactly a choice. "I won't be gone for long; it's only a few more days I swear." That didn't seem to reassure the boy. "But if you want to talk, now might be a good time."

"I...I don't have anything to say."

It wouldn't have mattered if he had anything to say anyway, the paranoia had already spread through each and every household. The reports had been broadcasted, the newspapers had been printed and the people were aware. Ayden's reputation was ruined, he would never be trusted by the public again.

* * *

_Sorry folks, meant to update sooner but I got tendinitis...in my hand! That made typing considerably harder but now its mostly better, as in I can move my hand again hooray. So here's a look into the past, one of many, I had been debating whether or not I wanted to follow a chronological order with these flashbacks but decided to put them up whenever they seem most relevant. I love writing Danny as a dad, s'fun! Also super special treat for you, if you're curious just what teenage Ayden would look like you can take a gander there.__ http:// at-a-glancey .deviantart. com/art/Prodigal-Son-160499719__ It's my apology for taking forever._


	4. Of Emotional Detachment

Chapter 4: Of Emotional Detachment

//////////////

His head was swimming and pounding at the same time as he opened the door to his now permanent residence. Try as he might, Ayden couldn't get that guy out of his mind. He'd been mumbling to himself throughout his whole walk home about just how ungrateful that bastard had been. Of course this wasn't true, his mind had countered; he still believed that in some respect he'd earned the treatment he got. Clearly the man had been attacked because the creature mistook the stranger for Ayden. Maybe if he changed his face..

"Ayden what's going on? Johnny called me he sounded concerned and since that's cause enough for panic I came over. You weren't here, where have you been?" the young brunette asked with genuine concern and sweetness. Her pale face was sprinkled with freckles which gave her the air of innocence he never had.

He blinked against the soft light of the living room to make out the female; registering slowly in his brain he remembered she was Terra. She was his friend but he hated her sometimes just because she was such a humanist. She had that annoying belief that all people were inherently good and needed nurturing and positive reinforcement. He'd met her in high school and somehow managed to keep her since then. She was built like a goddess or at least he thought so though his judgment was likely to be distorted. The more he looked at her the more he realized she was just his type but the skinny classically curved women were never busty enough for 'real' men. In fact she was just average, he liked average.

He tipped his head looking into her pale face her brown hazel eyes regarding him with worry. She was touching his shoulders trying to hold him up like he was about to fall over. He wanted her to let go, she always worried and always thought he was in some near-death battle with evil. When in reality he'd thrown a few back at the bar and had walked five miles home in the rain. Real heroic.

"You've been drinking again..." She frowned and he shot her a grin, he'd been waiting for her to put that puzzle together.

He gave her a smirk and she released his shoulders. Disappointment flooded her features and she wrinkled her nose. He knew she was annoyed to find that he fell short of her expectations. She tried so hard to believe that he could do better and he would do better. Instead he was out, again, at a bar drowning his sorrows and everything else.

She turned on her heel and walked over to the couch she'd been waiting on. Sitting down she crossed her legs and glared at him, her foot shaking with her nerves. She was fumbling through her purse trying to put her phone back in it with shaking hands; she was trying to articulate without words that she was ready to leave.

"Oh I see what this, you come over to my place and expect me to apologize?" he blurted rather annoyed with her behavior. What right did anyone have to dictate his life? They may have been friends since high school but that didn't give her any leverage, he deserved respect from everyone no matter how they knew him.

"Yes you've been a complete jack ass for long enough," she said in a matter-of-fact way while raising her eyebrows. "You owe me."

He clenched his fists at his side and felt his eyes flash. "Excuse me? This is my house and you don't get to come here and change me."

She stood up fists at her side to mirror his stance. Did he really look that angry? "You're destroying yourself and I tried to understand but now I don't even know you anymore. Why can't you just admit what happened to your dad hurts you? Why do you think for a minute that what you're doing is healthy behavior? Why do you push everyone away? Why can't you tell people you love them?"

The endless litany of snarled questions struck him, strangely, off guard. Somehow he managed to keep his composure but each word was another blow to his ego. He was grinding his teeth to dust while his eyes went darting sporadically, selling him out for being a coward.

"I don't have to justify myself to you. I don't owe you a thing Terra," Ayden responded coldly his insides crumbling while his hard outer shell seemed to be glazed over with another layer of tarnish. "I don't care about anything or anyone so why won't you just leave me the hell alone?"

Her eyes switched immediately from narrow to glassy. He'd done it again another companionship, one that had actually brought him joy, was destroyed. Ayden was well aware of his annoying tendency to throw everything away, even the things he wanted to keep.

"Who are you Ayden Fenton?" she choked as she made a quick exit out the door.

"Yeah real dramatic Terra!" he yelled after her just as she slammed the door.

He should have stopped her and said something to make her stay. He could've maybe apologized and asked her to help him, because he knew deep down he needed her help. Instead he let her go with nothing even close to sympathy and not a single reason that she should come back. Having dealt her nothing but cruelty he accepted the fact that she may never return to him or even call to see how he was doing. Something inside him cringed with a different sort of pain. Longing, rejection, loss all was swirling around his mind as he watched her car pull out of his driveway.

"Well fuck." He loved her. That stupid feeling he'd been trying to avoid because it was so disgustingly clichéd, because it was exactly like his father, had finally grasped him. He was, against his better judgment, falling for that girl. Meaning it was time to repress another feeling that would become just another blur amongst the millions of other memories and emotions he'd hatefully banished to the back of his mind.

The phone rang and he ignored it as it obnoxiously echoed through the corridors of his skull.

His Aunt Jazz kept calling him insisting he was severely depressed and begged him to come over for tea; which meant in a nutshell that she would poke and prod each and every insecurity he had until he broke down. Until everything he'd craftily sewn up and hidden away was open and exposed for her to pick at. Booze was so much better than 'letting it all out.' That logic didn't stop the phone from ringing in the empty corridors of the large home doubled as a scientific research base.

He knew she was trying to reach him again. The message machine picked it up telling the caller that Danny and Ayden weren't here right now.

Footsteps sounded and Ayden looked to see his largely built friend wiping a wrench with an oil stained cloth. "So uh... how'd talking to Terra go?" he asked in his throaty way which was always a slow and cautious way of asking, as though he wanted to be as neutral as possible even though he was a naturally aggressive man.

"Why the hell would you go and do something like that?" the black haired man seethed. He wondered how he was ever going to fair with Johnny as his roommate if the guy was going to pull things like this. Right then and there he began to seriously debate his decision on having him move in, maybe he was better off alone. Did his friends try to make him miserable? Some days, his more misanthropic days, he believed that more than others.

"So instead of telling her that you care for her you yelled at her till she cried. Am I getting this right?" Johnny returned with a shrug.

Ayden slumped into his chair and meet eyes with his old friend. "How'd you guess?"

"I don't know you've just got this habit of being really predictable," he stated lightly. "'Surprised you haven't been killed by one of your enemies yet."

Ayden forced a small laugh. "You and me both buddy," he agreed monotonously. "But I guess I have my dad to thank for that..." he added distantly.

Johnny looked at the black haired blue eyed man and saw the tired look he gave off. Life had not been good to him despite the fact he was endowed with inhuman abilities. Powers, Johnny theorized, were something that one should only gain by choice never by force. Force was a rather harsh word but Ayden had not been given the choice to be born let alone born with ghost powers. When they were younger Ayden used to make off handed remarks on how terrible it felt to use them.

Of course it never really crossed anyone's mind on just how a person must utilize _ghost_ powers. It was a process; Ayden had explained once, one that involved letting the body die and disappear for the time the ghost half took control. He'd also mention that it didn't happen as quickly inwardly as it appeared it did outwardly. The teen's father had always relented that it would take some 'getting used to' but he never adjusted. He was partially dead from the beginning, never once getting a taste of the full potential of life. Perhaps that was the cause for his maladjustment.

"What's the matter with me?" the raven haired mess questioned weakly after much silence between them.

Johnny inwardly winced having known Ayden's past and patterns well. Anyone else might've told him to lighten up or that he was a dreadful human being who took pleasure in complaining. "Nothing, you're just different from the others."

The others, Ayden pensively turned this over in his mind; it wasn't the first time he'd heard this line, in fact he'd spoken it years ago. The others had a life before half-life, it had been a shift; a moment of full life and everything that it had to offer before half of it was stripped away with the change. Even Dani, in her creator's attempt to make a stable clone, had been created fully human first before she was given ghost powers. Her powers of course were unstable since the introduction was done in a slow synthetic way but still, she too had been a fully formed human once. Only Ayden bypassed the privileged every other human being was granted at birth.

There never was anyone like him and he knew it. Perhaps that was why he was accustomed to periods of sulking and self-loathing. Ayden was born clinically depressed it seemed, immediately aware that his life was only a half of what life really had to offer. Strangely enough he always had a sense that he was missing something. Some argued he had no right to feel so disjointed since he never knew what he was missing out on but it seemed Ayden knew exactly what he didn't and could never have. Johnny's frown increased as the thoughts lumbered through his mind. Even more so when it struck him that this depression was different. A fear was beginning to grow and it told him of how Ayden may not be pulled from this; he might be finally destroyed, the second inheritance of his birthright.

"You're looking at me strange," Ayden pointed out, still dripping from his seat like a limp rag doll. Johnny hadn't meant to stare or gawk or any of the things he was sure he was doing that was disturbing his friend. But he kept getting flashes of a second funeral, the leftovers from a suicide.

He shook his head trying to expel the thought through his ears. "I was just thinking..." he answered blinking in shock unaware of how long he might have been standing and thinking.

Ayden nodded, his insightful eyes glazing over. There was something else that was a consequence of being born directly into a schism of the natural and paranormal. He had almost a third eye, it only sensed miserable things and only let him see all the slime that coated the world, even the lovely things. He knew there was also a way of seeing with a third eye that showed all the beauty of everything but he could see only the filth and only the unsightliness of every one and every thing in every situation. He saw what people thought of him, he could see their minds working, the cogs turning the rust over. He knew what they expected from him and from everyone else, and it seemed that all thoughts involving him turned without hesitation to the worst.

"You're thinking that I'm going to kill myself," he said his voice eerie and unnatural as it seemed to tangibly hang in the air. Johnny could almost see himself reaching out to touch the fragile crystalline words but knew they would shatter and fall out of thin air. "I don't know yet myself if that will be the option I take. But it is there, so you are right my friend. Everyone is always right about me."

He got up and walked away exiting through the door without another word, knowingly leaving his closest friend in frozen shock. When he thawed he would come for him and would confront him about the previous conversation. But for now Ayden had some time to kill. He would wander the three hundred acres of the compound, his childhood home and inherited property.

It was a three part area. The first and largest building was the home section. In which the strange structured two story house was built and attached to the garage that doubled as an aircraft hangar. The hangar led directly into an underground scientific research facility that had doubled as his father's lab. The layout of the three buildings flowed together so well that it seemed they were all one entity. The house was actually a larger "improved" version of the original home that had burnt down nearly a decade ago. The old home didn't fit nearly as well as the new one.

A few yards behind the house was a small but looming Military Base. There volunteer scientists and Dash Baxter's militia would meet and discuss new invasions and ghost related matters. Diplomats would visit with concerns for any impending attacks and would purchase weaponry and ask for aid against the paranormal. And just behind there, attached by a glass hallway was a one floored building that served as the emergency care center for any on site injuries due to ghost attacks or lab accidents. There was the work place for a handful of on-call doctors that had treated Ayden more than he cared to acknowledge.

Ayden sighed as he made his path away from these facilities. He walked out into the empty field that led to a small creek separating the grassy area from a dark patch of woods. His family owned three hundred acres, the compound took up only about one hundred acres, and the rest was nature. He briefly recalled his father saying that was how his mother wanted it; they essentially kept a nature reserve on their property. The young man, in all his years, had never seen it all, though he tried. Solemnly he sat on a rock beside the babbling creek; the air was gray with the light mist of rainfall. His shivered being without a jacket but refused to seek shelter.

He wondered while picking up a stick and absently tracing strange figures into the damp dirt what he should do with himself. It wasn't the first time in his life he'd contemplated suicide. In fact it was a common thought in the back of his mind that usually was trumped out by other factors. Not so much things or people to live for but more along the lines of what happens next. Knowing, with his luck, that he'd probably be stuck in the Ghost Zone for eternity being harassed endlessly had usually deterred his suicidal actions. This usually was accompanied by the terrifying notion that his disgruntled father would look for him and probably give him hell. Now, with his father gone, it was just a matter of the unhappy thought of being stuck as a miserable ghost forever.

Still the idea lingered with him since adolescence, ever since a certain incident that occurred when he was only fourteen. Nearly dying hadn't been all bad, it had only hurt for a while then everything was black and he was fine; that is until his father pulled him out of it. He couldn't shake the seemingly endless memories of the times he woke up with his father. It was the look in his eyes that never left Ayden's mind. The justification Ayden had for hating his dad so much was lost when he remembered how much the man had cared. How empty, how desperate, how wounded and stricken he had been when his only son was too close to death. That was something that no one could fake, it was genuine; Danny Fenton loved his son.

Ayden Fenton didn't know how he felt, wasn't sure if he could feel. Even when he told people he'd loved his mother he wasn't sure that was legitimate. The only thing he had to go off of was the guilt he felt because she had died for him. That was all he understood and so he began acting under the assumption that because she had so loved him that he too loved her. But he really couldn't remember much of her except that she stood on a pedestal he'd put her on and that she was dead, the sacrificial lamb. He'd been told they'd been close once but she was just a distant memory borrowed from photographs. He had known a lot about his dad but never fully understood the man or his own role as his son.

In fact Ayden was pretty sure his disconnection stemmed, not from his parents, but from himself.

After all it had always been him. All the trouble he ran into as a rebellious teen had not been a factor of running with a rotten crowd; he'd done it alone, repeatedly. People never could understand how a world renowned hero's son had been so unfavorable. Even more confusing to them was that Ayden, even with his record, still protected the town with his life. The only logical thing for them would've been if he had turned into a villain or to the dark side or something clichéd like that. They knew they hated him for his uncouth decorum but couldn't justify it completely. Even Ayden didn't know why he did what he did.

There was something very wrong with him, something that kept him from connecting to the world around him and from having any strong feelings about anyone. He blamed his ghost side, he had after all, been born only half human. He didn't always understand people's fears or involvements; their emotions were so fickle and confusing. He couldn't imagine throwing himself deeply into any emotion; he never could lose himself to any feeling. Whenever he looked around and saw the way people orchestrated their lives he always had to ask why but never received an answer. His only answer could be that there was nothing wrong with them but everything wrong with him.

In exhaustion he looked at the shapes he'd been absentmindedly tracing in the sand, they looked alien but familiar. They were figures that had always been with him for as long as he could form thought. Every time he drew them it always had to be in a certain pattern, in a specific sequence, and in a mind numbing combination.

His most lucid memories of his mother were those when she would encourage him to thrive on creating. She immediately took these little obsessions as his hidden talent; she imagined he'd be an artist. In fact the woman had encouraged the boy to feed his creativity and never forget it. He remembered as a youth he'd occupy her art studio and paint silly child-like things beside her easel. She'd smile down at him and compliment his masterpieces, even if said masterpieces consisted of simplicity and a very base representation of perspective. Of course this was excluding the alien figures, they were always complex, always perfect. People who witnessed them would scoff at the idea of a young child who was so able to create something so original and intricate.

Ayden shook his head, even when he told the truth people thought he was lying. He just wasn't sure what brought his first stake in such a position but he knew he was hated; it couldn't have just been from the accident at the Nasty Burger. The creeping suspicion against his character stemmed back to the night his mother was murdered. For some reason there was always low whisperings over why he had been the sole survivor of the attack. His family explained that it was because his mother had protected him that he was kept safe and he believed them, mostly because he couldn't remember a thing. The entire night was a blur of horror and pain and his young mind had locked the details far away from his grasp. The public continued to scoff his name but at the first sign of danger they called it as their last hope for salvation.

He sighed again having brought himself back to loss after loss. He couldn't be an artist like he'd wanted, he didn't have any parents left, he was the only halfa in existence from here to eternity; the list went on in such a way that it made him sick. Violently he scuffed the alien figures into the dirt with a frustrated yell. Nothing ever made sense to him, not even his own creations. He was lost and confused and left with no options or answers.

Deep down he knew he should talk to his aunt Jazz or his uncle Tuck but he couldn't imagine what they'd have to say to him. He acted like he didn't feel any shame for his actions but that wasn't true. He felt like an idiot and he knew he couldn't look any of them in the eye just yet without a steady help from alcohol. He had a lot to answer to and that didn't just mean his responsibilities with the family company. Vaguely Ayden wondered if it were too late for him to go missing. Unfortunately a part of him just wouldn't let him run away from anything, meaning he'd have to face everything.

"Ayden," the voice echoed somberly against the chilling late afternoon.

Ayden slouched his shoulders as if that would hide him but Johnny would always know where to look. Having a childhood friend meant not having any secrets from said friend. The man with the shaggy blond hair sat beside his raven haired counter. "Look Johnny I-"

"No," Johnny interjected putting his hands up to keep his friend silent. "I have some things to tell you and you're going to listen. No excuses Ayden Fenton. I don't care what you might think about all this because you've had too much to drink anyway."

"Fair enough."

"You do realize that running away all the time won't make anything any better?" He eyed Ayden who turned his face away in quiet resistance. "There's so much life you're missing out on because you just don't believe in yourself. You're so much better than all of this and you have so much to give, but you're so afraid; I don't understand it Ayden. You hate yourself so much for all the things you can't change but you're a good soul and I just wish you could see how great you are. Until you love yourself things will never change and you'll never be happy."

Ayden sat for a moment, chin in hand, contemplating the words. He swished them around on his tongue and would occasionally poke them against his cheek. "I see your points but what the hell makes you the all knowing master?"

"I don't claim to know much, but I do know you."

Ayden twiddled his thumbs anxiously trying to shrug off Johnny's stare; it wasn't working. Shame wasn't the right word for what he was feeling it was in fact something to be placed between inferiority and regret wherein; he regretted that he demonstrated openly just how inferior he was. If only his father could see him now, if only his mother knew what he would become. The two should have been so good to stop this train wreck long ago but instead they wasted their precious time and energy on a lying trying waste of space; hardly a son and more of a disappointment.

Johnny cleared his throat and when Ayden got a good look at him he could see the tears brimming. "Can you promise me that you won't do something stupid?" He then slapped him on the back forcing a hearty laugh. "I mean, after all, it's my job to guard your body, even from you."

Weakly, Ayden smiled and gave his friend a pat on the knee. "I won't do anything stupid Johnny," he assured faintly.

His knees cracked into place as he stood up and straightened his back. Just as he turned to go he heard the blond call after him. "Try not to drink so much, alright buddy?"

Ayden nodded weakly but he wasn't very good at keeping promises.

* * *

_I like writing all this. I do not like that fanfiction won't let me put in my dotted line breakers, the big ol' broad line interrupts the story too much, now I gotta find a new way to break up the story if I need to, good thing I didn't need to this time. How do you feel about the dashes?  
_


	5. Interpersonal Relationships

Chapter 5: Interpersonal Relationships

xxxx

Camille could be described pretty; she had dark skin and unconventionally bright eyes. Her hair was a thick and tinted with hints of copper in the dark brown. She didn't look different from her twin sister Theresa but her parents and friends could tell them apart in second, even when they insisted they were the other. Camille was loving and gentle, she was respectful to family and tried to conform to traditions. She was also a daddy's girl. And right now her dad was hurting.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it to the funeral," she apologized softly as she sat the kitchen bar with her father as he nursed a cup of coffee.

"I understand sweetie," Tucker responded. Theresa only called once, but he didn't expect her to get on a plane and fly half-way around the country to visit him.

"How are you doing daddy?" she asked softly and touched his shoulder. Her mother had said it had been rough on him, losing his best friend unexpectedly was not something he was handling well.

He patted her hand with a smile and thanked his good luck for having such a wonderful family. His twenty year old daughters were sweet and understanding. All of his girls loved him and he loved them. "I'll be okay," he said with a warm smiled.

He looked over to his wife as she put in a tray of cookie dough, Camille's favorite, into the oven. He knew his wife missed baking for the girls. Janice showed her affection through baking, and though his teenage appetite never went away he was still only one man and she was so full of love and affection.

"It's not gonna be the same around here, that's for sure," Janice reflected longingly, her brown eyes meeting sadly with her husband.

Tucker nodded. Danny had been their neighbor for over twenty years, and even though the Fenton Compound was a five minute drive from their home it seemed he was always around or at least they were around him. As best as Tucker could judge his strong willed wife had really like Danny and not because he was a super hero but because she was convinced he was a truly wholesome man. They were fast friends. She had liked Ayden as well, at least until he started causing too much trouble. Once he became an unruly teenager she kept her distance from the boy, maybe out of fear or just disgust. But she was always good to him, at least as much as a family friend ought to be, and Tucker admired her for that. Janice understood Tucker's relationship with the Fentons was deep and meaningful and she would never do anything to stand in his way.

"I'm worried about Ayden," Tucker blurted casually as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Why's that dear?" Janice asked, concerned.

"Yeah, why's that?" Camille echoed, irritated.

Janice shot her a look but the girl turned her head to focus on her father. "He's just...well you know how he is. I just don't think he was ready to lose Danny but he won't accept that it happened."

"Well, losing a parent is hard," Janice sighed and thought of her own parents, who had passed with age. "But it's not like he's alone."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't feel alone," Tucker added poignantly. "Camille, you're around his age maybe you could go visit him, you know offer him some company." Tucker smiled at her, it wasn't like he didn't notice over the years that Camille and Theresa were no big fans of the Fenton boy. "I don't think he wants to see any of his close friends or family, you guys were never close were you?"

"No," the girl responded apathetically.

"Well then you'd be best to talk with him," he said with nod. He knew Ayden well enough to know that right now he wasn't going to listen to anyone who loved him. "I'm sure he doesn't want sympathy right now all he needs is a friend."

"Like I wanna be friends with that freak," Camille blurted almost reflexively. After all, it'd been the line she and her sister repeated all through high school. Everyone knew Foleys and Fentons were supposed to be friends but she and her sister participated in mocking the boy rather than defending him.

"Now I know I raised you better than that," Janice scolded and Tucker just sighed. "How can you say that about someone we consider family?"

"You two consider him family," she stated firmly, "and I consider him a neighbor. "

"Do you believe what everyone else does about him?" Janice questioned, she may not have agreed with his small criminal record but she did have faith in him because she, like everyone else close to him, watched him struggle. She wasn't surprised he got into to trouble but that didn't mean she condoned all his actions. "Well do you?" She didn't want to believe that her daughter was as ignorant as the rest.

"Yeah...well no, I don't think Ayden's a villain. I just don't think he's quite right."

Tucker looked up but not at her. "Like he's crazy?"

"Whatever you wanna call it, he's a freak dad. Danny was cool but Ayden is just weird. No one liked him because he was creepy and I'm willing to bet he hasn't changed at all."

"Enough," Janice demanded sharply. "You're not in High School anymore, now you need to understand he's a person-"

"Well technically-" Camille interrupted condescendingly.

"Camille," Tucker cut in sharply before she was able to finish her thought. "You know better than that."

The girl shrunk in her seat and looked submissively up to her mother. The woman took a deep relaxing breath and she leaned over the table to be more level with her daughter. "Honey bee, that poor boy wasn't lucky enough to be a part of a stable home. He's had to fight for everything he's ever had and let me tell you, that isn't a lot. I think all Ayden has ever had was his father and now he doesn't even have that anymore. The world is going to be crueler to him now that he's alone and he needs to know that people can change." Camille blinked thoughtfully. "He needs to see that people are capable of great compassion, Lord knows he's already seen the hostility people can have."

"We're not asking you to be his best friend in the world," Tucker added and patted his daughter's hand. "All you need to do is give him some faith in mankind. You know, something to hope for."

Camille shifted and brushed the tips of her long hair. With a sigh she looked at both her parents and she knew they considered her a rational and gentle young lady. "I guess I could bring him a casserole."

xxxx

"Dad?"

"Hmm?" the blue eyed man returned tiredly as he sat in front of his newspaper.

"Did Danny ever get depressed?"

Dash looked up and gazed thoughtfully at his son. He took a sip of his coffee and made a mental note to thank him for his visit, he liked when he visited, he was terribly lonely now that his wife had left him and he thought he was too old to start dating again. He looked at the blond haired blue eyed boy and reminded himself that he was a man now, he was a man to be proud of. "Sure he did," Dash returned casually and placed his cup down. "Why, having troubles with Ayden?"

Johnny shifted uneasily, if only he was a little more assertive like his father than maybe he wouldn't have a problem controlling Ayden as a client. Right now he couldn't get into the dynamics of his friendship with the guy that was far more complicated and delicate; this question was based simply on professionalism.

"A little," he responded meekly.

Even though he tried to tell himself he could separate his job from his feelings he knew that was a lie, if anything happened to Ayden and he didn't try to do something he'd never forgive himself. Ayden was his best friend and he could never ignore that, not even for a paycheck. Some days he regretted taking the job in the first place; how could he have expected to be professional? He and Ayden had been paired since day one. In fact Ayden was only a few months younger than he was and since both their fathers were on the same team it was only natural their children should do the same.

Johnny liked to think he knew Ayden better than anyone else in the world. But he also knew him well enough to know that wasn't true. Ayden was a bit more complicated than that, no one knew him better than anyone, except maybe Danny. "Well John, I can't tell you how to handle the situation."

"But I don't know what to do, I-"

Dash put a hand up to silence his child. "Son, no one can tell you how to handle anything. My relationship with Danny was far different than yours is with Ayden. And they were two very different people if you exclude their stubbornness. Of course Danny had trouble but it wasn't me he leaned on, sure we were pals but that only goes so far."

Dash paused and reflected on his past, on his mistakes and achievements. The day he first met Danny felt like another lifetime, a lifetime spent trying to tear down a boy who was trying to keep the balance of two worlds in secret. He never would've imagined then that Fenton was a half-ghost superhero or that one day he'd get the honor of working along side him. Dash couldn't believe he'd been lucky enough to call Danny his friend. He rolled his finger around the edge of the breakfast table; he missed his friend.

"John, you know I'm proud of you right?"

Johnny looked up at his father; he usually kept his head bent slightly whenever he was receiving a lecture or advice from the man. It was really just a habit he had but he knew it demonstrated a level of respect and submissiveness that most people never bother to show. "Of course dad," he responded gently. He never understood one thing completely about Ayden; he didn't understand why he hated his father so much, though Johnny told him that he "totally got it".

Nodding slowly Dash rolled up the paper. "Johnny-boy, you're more capable than you think you are. Trust me, you'll figure everything out."

"Thanks dad, I-really, thanks."

Dash smiled and stood up, letting his joints settle with slight crack. He gestured for his son to join him and loyally the young man stood and followed his dad out the door. After all it was a Sunday, and they spent their Sundays bonding.

xxxx

The doorbell rung and Ayden walked gracelessly toward it. He wanted to avoid everyone in the world but it seemed they always showed up at his doorstep anyway. Asking for a little solitude was too much if your last name was Fenton. Opening the door, Ayden found someone rather unexpected and almost unfamiliar at his door step.

He blinked as he stood in the opening of the door at the girl at his door. Either one of the Foley girls showing up to see him was a little more than surprising. "Theresa?"

"No, I'm Camille," the young girl responded through gritted teeth. Being an identical twin was annoying sometimes, though she was sure Ayden could tell the difference between them in a heartbeat. He was strange like that, but she was always secretly impressed by that ability.

"Yeah I guess you're not as pretty as Theresa," he noted casually.

She bit back a sneer and balanced the tray of cookies she'd brought when she figured a casserole was too clichéd and not exactly something someone his age would want from someone younger. "I guess I deserve that," she replied rigidly. For all the times she'd teased and ridiculed him she knew she deserved that and much worse.

Her parent's guilt trip was working.

Though respectively, just looking at him now was making her feel guilty. He used to have a quirky sort of spark to him that never went away no matter what anyone said about him. Sure he was always dark and brooding but there was always that light to off-set his dour attitude. That light was gone; it used to be visible in his eyes, now they were drooping and glazed over. She'd only ever seen that look in heavily medicated individuals.

"I suppose you'd like to come in," Ayden said in a begrudging tone.

She smiled meekly, somehow he'd never seen this intimidating before. "If you'll have me," she answered softly. He was considerably more intimidating then he was in high school.

She followed the tall lean boy, who was now a man, into the empty house. She began to mourn the loss of the neurotic anxiety riddled teen boy whom she had known her whole life. Somewhere inside of her she wanted to apologize for never helping him, for teasing him relentlessly, and playing mental games on him just to fit in. A few years ago it all made sense to her, everyone hated Ayden, except maybe his two outcast friends and few die-hard Phantom fans. He never had a chance back in those days, and she supposed even now things hadn't changed much.

As he led her to the open faced living room and offered her a seat by brushing off some lazily placed clothes, she took note of the mess he'd made. Danny had always kept a relatively clean house despite his busy schedule. Ayden had littered the place with empty bottles and cigarette packs. An ashtray lay on the table and had clearly been utilized frequently. He sat on the far side of the couch and poured a small glass of dark colored liquor. Trying to ignore his meticulous way of pouring the drink she set the plate of cookies on the table gently, so as not to disturb him.

"Would you like a glass?" he offered out of politeness.

She rubbed her knees together. "I'm not twenty-one."

He quirked an eyebrow at her and swirled the ice cubes and liquor together under his palm. "So?"

Camille shook her head. "No, thanks though."

"Suit yourself," he responded carelessly. She sat quietly until he finished his drink and set the glass down on the table. Leaning back he stared at her first just to study her then to make her uncomfortable. "So _who_ sent you here?"

"I heard about your dad," she began softly running through her own pre-prepared script in her mind. "I'm really sorry Ayden, he was a great guy."

Ayden laughed, first a little chuckle then a dark throaty laugh that seemed out of forced amusement. The young woman stole a glance at his neck and bit her lip. She could've been much nicer to him considering the hell his personal life took him through. Why had she been so cruel and why did it look so cool to make him suffer? Nervously Camille sucked her bottom lip. He could've killed her if he wanted to, he could've killed everyone if he wanted. Some days she wouldn't have blamed him if he did.

"Seriously, Camille you really think I wouldn't see this is Tucker's pathetic plan." His ice blue stare caught her attention. "Daddy sent you here didn't he?" he sneered. "Why? To make me feel loved or just to make sure I haven't blown my brains out?" He laughed again so heartily that she was terrified.

"I'm sorry I bullied you," she blurted. She just wanted him to stop laughing.

He laughed again and she wished he'd stop doing that. "Bullied me? Sweetie, bullies take your lunch money and you, you people, took my dignity. You bastards didn't bully me, you tortured me."

"I'm sorry," she repeated lowly and kept her eyes down. "It was wrong and I was wrong; you didn't deserve to be treated that way."

"Well it's great that you feel bad in hindsight. That makes me feel a whole lot better." Camille stared at him sadly and he grinned. "You really enjoyed it when it was still relevant though, didn't you?"

"I was just a stupid kid."

"Aren't we all just stupid kids?" he asked his voice shifting to darker territory. "That's what we always tell ourselves later, we were just naive or ignorant but," he seemed to be gazing far into the depths of a world she couldn't see, "the truth is we always knew what we were doing exactly when we did it. I don't think I'm any wiser than I was when I was sixteen," his voice carried away; "at least I don't feel like I am."

She followed his gaze to a family portrait that hung just above the mantle of the fireplace. The whole mantle was littered with pictures and a few awards, all named to Danny of course. She studied the picture and couldn't believe the sweet little boy in the picture grew up to be Ayden. In fact she couldn't believe that the boy she went to school with was this man now, this angry jaded hateful man. She could've helped him; she always had the means to help.

He looked at her softly and she knitted her brow with concern and interest. Camille realized he was waiting for her to respond perhaps with her own perspective. Despite the acrid front Ayden portrayed he always wanted to know what everyone else thought. She never gave him credit for that before, his willingness to leave room for opinions. Although she figured being half a ghost and half a human probably made it incredibly difficult for him to be close minded.

Sighing tiresomely, Camille broke the way their eyes had locked from across the couch. "I don't know if I'm wiser or just smarter. Is there a difference?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

Shaking his head Ayden looked away as well. "Yeah," he answered quietly, "there's a difference." He never expected her, or anyone else for that matter, to understand him. They'd have to be at least half crazy to even come close to grasping his point.

He looked over at her and maybe she didn't hear him. Camille was different than her sister. Theresa was composed and determined; she sat up straight and took life seriously. Camille could be composed but she gave herself moments to think dreamy unrealistic thoughts just for the fun of it. Ayden could've been friends with her, they almost were when they were young kids, but she was too much of a follower. Her sister, who was almost the polar opposite of Ayden, subconsciously discouraged her twin from just enjoying their neighbor's presence. Because they never were given time to see how compatible they could've been they just simply drifted apart instead. Before he knew it, the friendly girl stuck her nose up at him too, and sometimes he couldn't tell the twins apart.

It was really a shame too, Camille had so much potential. She could've held depth but with a deep set fear of rejection she flocked with everyone else. Camille sold herself short before she ever had a chance. Even now he had to remind himself how shallow she was and just what kind of terrible things she would do to garner acceptance.

"Hey," Camille noted suddenly causing Ayden's flesh to tingle as he held himself back from jumping out of his chair. "Wow, is that a Noble Peace Prize, I've never seen one up close." She'd been studying the mantle while he'd been studying her. She was now trying her hardest to change the subject back to her reason for being there. She was supposed to be making him feel better and getting him to talk about his loss in a healthy way. She couldn't do that if he was going to babble on about some abstract philosophy.

Ayden blinked in surprise. He'd forgotten how short of an attention span she'd had. "It's...well it was my dad's," he mentioned apathetically.

She got up to inspect the prize that sat on the mantle safe in a shadow box. "I remember reading about Danny getting this," she said aloud. Then she turned on her heel to face Ayden. "Didn't someone try to assassinate him that night?" Maybe not the best question but that was something she was curious about and her dad wouldn't talk about it; he said it was a distressful night.

How inappropriate, Ayden thought. "Yeah." He rubbed his left shoulder nervously; he didn't read a single article that talked about that night.

"He missed right?" she asked in interest. Apparently the coverage had been poor and inaccurate. Ever curious, Camille was not one who hesitated to ask.

Gripping his shoulder he fought to keep his eyes from switching to that disturbing shade of violet. "Yeah, missed," Ayden responded in lackluster. "Look, maybe you should go."

"Did I upset you?" she questioned sympathetically. She kicked herself for jumping into the conversation like that. That wasn't what she had meant to do at all. She just wanted to talk to him but she made a mistake by trying with something she found interesting.

He stood up and shook off that crawling feeling. "Come on now, we all know that was already done the second you showed up at my door."

She blinked in frustration and gripped the fabric of the dark colored couch. "Hey, that's not fair. I said I was sorry," she rebutted. "What is it with you?"

He shook his head and gripped his temple with an amused snort. "Yeah you _said_ you were sorry, behind closed doors, between me and you. But you don't mean it." She opened her mouth to argue but he put up a hand to silence her. "No, you didn't mean it, because you'll never apologize in public."

"I could."

"Oh yeah? If you really meant it, if you were really sorry, you'd apologize in front of your sister," Ayden stated firmly and crossed his arms watching her reaction.

Camille's face went blank and she looked at him in defeat. She open her mouth and then closed it firmly, her face locked into a pout. He was surprised that it was becoming of her. Camille was always pretty; she'd be beautiful if he could find something substantial in her. She immediately noticed that strange look of callous amusement had finally left his face. He was serious now and she didn't have a thing to say to him.

"I think you should go." The proposition seemed more like a demand now. Ayden folded his arms and waited as Camille seemed to shrink as she took slow back steps toward the door with a nod.

Being polite, he walked her toward the door and opened it for her. The lovely dark skinned girl paused as she seemed to be processing her visit in it's entirety before she left. Jaded blue eyes were bearing through her soul while he waited for her to get out of the door frame so he could shut her away from his mind. Finally she turned to look out into the driveway and then brought her eyes back to the unhappy young man she'd known her whole life. At this point what was the worst she could say to him; she couldn't imagine anything would upset him further now. She'd crossed the line with him countless times in high school.

"You're gonna be okay, right?" Camille asked quietly and Ayden heard the genuine concern.

With a resentful sigh he nodded. "Yeah, yeah it's fine."

"I..." She looked at him sorrowfully, her eyes searching his face. Sure he drove her insane but there was something about him now, something so strikingly human, that she couldn't put her finger on it. He seemed like he was actually upset about losing his father but he wasn't going to tell a soul or even let himself know it; that made her sad. Mostly because he must've truly believed all weakness was bad weakness. Camille was never surer in her life that Ayden was going to destroy himself. "Okay, see you around."

He blew a puff of dry air in scoffing amusement. "Yeah sure Camille."

* * *

_Sorry for the hiatus folks, been busy. Busy busy busy. I'll also be updating Invalid soon if you happen to be sore at me for that too. Trying to get back on track, I promise.  
_


	6. Past Presence

Chapter 6: Past Presence

xxxx

The door creaked open slowly letting in a cool night time breeze and an aging woman. The house didn't protest. Curtains ruffled gently but aside from the moan of the door everything was silent. The unexpected visitor wasn't shy, she had an honest stride and confident composure. She was no stranger here.

"Ayden, where are you?" Jazz walked casually, her heels clicking against the wood paneled floor as she went. She wasn't worried about causing an upset by entering so plainly; after all she had a key.

Jazz meandered about the house not entirely engrossed in finding her nephew, he wasn't far she was sure of that. She took her time moving about the rooms. She found interest in inspecting the pictures that had been placed randomly about the home by her brother; he was never much of a decorator but he was sentimental in his own ways. She remembered there were always new pictures, some were swapped out by more recent ones, while only a few vintage photos kept their place. She liked the one of herself and Danny that he never put away that had been taken when he was fourteen and she was sixteen. Those times had meant a lot to both of them; they were the times that cemented their relationship.

She once thought that she and Danny would drift apart in high school. She never could have guessed that their teen years would bring them closer than ever. She looked over the mantle and saw the family photograph that looked so natural; it was actually just a really good picture she'd taken by accident one summer morning. Ayden was five, if she could remember, and Danny had his wife. Jazz tapped her lips as she examined it for the first time in years, there was a spark in both sets of blue eyes that had disappeared not long after the picture had been taken.

She smiled sadly at the antique memory of the woman who was once a very close friend to her. With a sigh Jazz shook the thoughts from her head while clinging to the vague thought of how fast time had flown. Ayden and her daughter had grown up and now her little brother was gone. The only surprise she had left, she supposed, was when she too would pass.

"How long have you been here?" a dark voice inquired quietly.

Jazz nearly jumped out of her own skin, he was so deathly quiet she didn't realize he'd been nearby. Gathering her composure she turned to see her nephew for the first time since the funeral. He looked tired and there was a dark angry bruise on his cheek that looked fairly fresh. Though he tried to hide it she immediately caught his limp as he walked toward her.

"I just got here," she returned softly as she met him half way and pretended like she wasn't dying to aid him to sit on the couch.

"Great, you could call before you show up."

Blinking thoughtfully, Jazz pursed her lips. "You don't answer my calls and besides it looks like you were out."

"Yeah," he croaked and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. He'd been trying to avoid her for countless reasons but mostly because he couldn't look her in the eye anymore. In his peripheral he could see she was feeling just as misplaced as he was which was completely unlike her. Maybe she was still reeling from the recent events or maybe she didn't know how to talk to him anymore.

"You're still ghost fighting then?" she asked finally after the long uncomfortable silence.

This was her way of admitting that she had truly believed him when he renounced the Phantom name. She always thought he might though she hoped he wouldn't. In a sense she was relieved to see him a little beat up, at least now she knew he hadn't given up. He fell to the cushions in an exhausted heap and nodded, only wincing as he readjusted himself. She sat close to him. "That's good."

"If that's what you want to call it."

Jazz put a hand on his shoulder. "You've just got to let it go," she told him quietly. He looked at her hesitantly, expecting a much bigger lecture of sorts. "Your father wouldn't-"

"Can we not talk about it? I don't want to." He was curt and almost desperate. Although he knew he was inevitably going to have to talk about it with nearly all the members of Team Phantom. They weren't going to let him get away with avoiding the matter for long. Ayden sighed to himself irately; they never let him escape from anything.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Sweetie," she began and he winced, "I know you had a tough time at the funeral..."

"I was drunk," he said quickly. He'd been kidding himself for even entertaining the thought that she might let it be.

Jazz shook her head. "You were upset."

"And drunk, really really drunk. I don't even remember what happened." He, of course, was lying; he remembered everything. A little known fact about half ghosts is that alcohol doesn't have quite the same effect. A half ghost's metabolism is phenomenally greater than any human. Jazz didn't really know that, neither did any of the members of Team Phantom. Sometimes Ayden was sure his own father didn't know, or at least he didn't notice. Of course he hadn't been sober but he hadn't quite reached his limit, even though a normal human would've been knocked out. "Aunt Jazz, I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright," she gently conceded to his surprise. He looked over at her and she locked eyes with him serenely. She wasn't angry though she had every right to be, he was a stubborn jerk after all and he'd made a complete mockery out of his own father's funeral. She was a saint, he decided.

Jazz flashed him a smile as though she knew just what he was expecting. Suddenly her eyes light up and she snapped her fingers in recollection. "Oh, I brought you something." She reached into her purse and pawed through it meticulously. Finally she pulled out a velvet black jewelry box.

Ayden eyed it warily and quirked an eyebrow at his aunt. "Really, I think we should just be friends." Sometimes he used humor to mask his own discomfort, but she probably already knew that. Ayden was well aware of how easily his aunt saw right through him.

Jazz rolled her eyes and smirked if only to humor him. "Very funny." She opened the box carefully as though whatever was inside would be damaged by too much air rushing by. Ayden edged a little closer to get a better look at just what was being kept within the small box. "These belong to you now."

She handed him the box and he took it and let it sit flat on his palm. Inside were two silver rings, on the bands were three embedded stones, an emerald, a sapphire, and an amethyst. They were modest for wedding rings but that was who his parents had been. Ayden picked up the larger silver band and inspected it closely. His father had worn the wedding band up to his death; he never took it off for reasons his son had never quite comprehended. His finger skirted over a simple inscription he'd never known about, three words were imprinted on the inside of the ring: I love you.

He set the ring back down gingerly and eyed the second one. It was thinner and smaller to fit a thin and small hand. "So, this was hers?" He dusted his fingers over the band but didn't dare pick it up. For a moment he tried to imagine the ring's owner, starting from her hands. He realized he couldn't piece her together on his own, he got lost along the way. That bothered him.

Pulling his hand away, he closed the box. "Thanks," he looked away, "I guess."

Moving closer she brushed some of his stray hair from his eyes. "I just want to know you're okay."

He inched his head away from her hand. "I'm fine."

Jazz sat back and sighed while pulling her hand away from his face. "Then you should be able to talk." He responded by looking at the floor. "Come on kiddo, I practically raised you, you're safe with me."

"I don't have to do anything I don't want to," Ayden responded dryly and avoided eye-contact with the gentle aging woman.

She frowned and let her frustration take a hold of her reason, if only for a moment. "When did you become so jaded?" she asked with a twinge of annoyance her voice. Half a second passed and her reason caught up with her mind, but it was too late, she'd already said it and he had heard. Jazz recoiled, she could apologize but she had meant it and there was no going back now.

Cerulean irises gazed at her for a fleeting moment. Ayden blinked in her direction and then got up and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. "I'm going out for a smoke," he half-heartedly informed her. He picked up his aching body and walked away without a second glance leaving his Aunt to herself.

Jazz just sighed again and stared at the nearly full ashtray on the table. Clearly the boy smoked freely inside the house; he was just making excuses to avoid her. Standing up, Jazz collected herself and made her way toward the door, she had overstayed her welcome for now. She knew she'd have to get through to him eventually but now wasn't the time. She gazed over at the mantle and shook her shoulders; this wasn't going to be easy.

Ayden heard her leave, her car sighing as it pulled out of the driveway reached him from the back porch. Quietly he watched as the thin white cylinder in his hand burned slowly, making smoke signals as it died away. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to talk to her, he loved talking to his aunt; she was smart and perceptive and always very sweet. He just hadn't had anything to say. He was ashamed of himself and angry at someone she would probably be upset to know he was angry at. He was confused and having trouble understanding his own thoughts. He didn't have a good grip on the things he could have and would have said.

Maybe he was losing touch. Ayden let the thought sit with him for a moment. So many people already disagreed with him on just about every opinion or action he'd taken, so maybe they were right and he was wrong. Maybe he was going insane if he wasn't already. The thoughts were terrifying but he couldn't tell anyone. They'd laugh at him, tell him he was just being paranoid, and carry on with their lives as moment by moment he lost pieces of himself. He thought back to the ring and shuddered; he didn't remember his own mother anymore. His memory of her slipped away from him, she was really gone now. How long until he forgot his father like that? Surely it was inevitable that without someone trying to hold onto the memory for him he would lose that too.

Then, he thought, how long until he forgot himself? Maybe one day he would wake up and not know the man staring back at him; he hardly knew that guy now. Perhaps he already forgotten his identity, maybe he was worse off than he ever imagined. The haunting idea struck him for a sobering moment and froze his core. Was it possible that he was already crazy and this was a rare moment of lucidity; he hoped it wasn't true.

Stumping out his cigarette, Ayden shook the thoughts away forcefully. Shifting his shoulders, he tried to straighten out like everyone always told him to. He told himself he was okay and that he was perfectly fine, sometimes he just thought too much.

Blue mist clouded his mind and he looked skyward immediately trying to fight off a shiver. Nothing appeared. Glancing from the porch he shot a glare into the woods, the sun was almost gone on the horizon and he dreaded to investigate after dark. His fear of the woods was irrational, considering his age, but it had always been something he avoided. In the daylight he loved all the natural beauty the two hundred acres of forest held but at night he felt something evil.

By habit he looked to the glass slider as if another face was going to appear and offer him help. The house was empty. Swallowing hard, Ayden stood rigid and felt the slow freezing sensation climb through his body until he couldn't feel his body any longer. His hands opened and closed as he shouldered off the concerns crowding the back of his mind. A Phantom is never afraid of anything. With that reminder he took flight.

Ayden was fast. He was faster than Danny had ever been. Making his way through the woods, the Phantom ghosted in and out of the tree-tops, he would never admit that he loved flying because that would mean he liked being a ghost. Flying was nice but not worth what he had to be to do it, nothing was worth that. Try as he might he couldn't convince the world that his supposed "gift" was truly a curse.

The deeper he delved the less light there seemed to be. It was as though the trees were swallowing up everything into an eerie darkness. Usually the night time woods were filled with the chatter of the many animal inhabitants that made their home in the wilderness but tonight it was silent. The half-ghost tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that was slowly enveloping his thoughts. He couldn't help but recall the "monster" that had brought him countless nightmares; he had always been convinced that it was not only real but also waiting for him deep in the woods.

"Well, well, well," something dark voiced croaked.

Ayden froze and surveyed the darkened area, his hand lit up green as both a light in the dark and a warning to the stranger. "Who's there?" he demanded, despite the shiver of distrust that ran up his spine. This had to be it, the thing in the words he'd been afraid of since childhood. His father told him endlessly that it wasn't real but he never believed him.

"Little Ayden's all grown up," the voice said in its strange bemused dripping tone. "And he's finally come to see me." It almost seemed to be speaking in a whisper; it had a low masculine scratching voice. Ayden was not one to discriminate but the thing's voice sounded like it was coming from the depths of hell; it had to be evil.

"Show yourself," the half-ghost growled angrily. But he couldn't hide his fear when the thing began to break out in a slow croaking cackle. The laughter grew and expanded and Ayden was sure he was surrounded; he backed up and pictured the thousands of little monsters encircling him all ready to rip the flesh from his body. "Stop it." The laughter escalated into a crackling cacophony. "Stop it!" he screamed desperately, his violet eyes widened with fear and his hands both covered in bright green flairs of energy.

The noise stopped and the dark woods were silent. Ayden turned to the left, then to the right, but kept his feet locked in place. He would not be left defenseless, he wasn't a child anymore. But he was too afraid to leave; what if it was toying with him? Something rustled the leaves behind him and he turned quickly, keeping his body in a taught fighter's stance. He planted his feet firmer on the ground and clenched his jaw, he didn't want to face this but he didn't have many options.

"I don't want to fight you, you fool." Suddenly the coal black skinned creature slithered into the light surrounding Ayden. He pulled back with a repressed gasp as the demon showed itself.

It had two purple tinted orbs set widely apart in its face; he couldn't tell where it was looking. It was black, a deep shining shade that reflected the abyss; its skin looked as if it were pulled too tightly over its humanoid frame. When it moved closely on its long bent hind legs Ayden saw its long white teeth were set directly over its lips; he imagined if it opened its mouth it would have a wider bite. Finally the tall creature stood less than a foot from Ayden. It was sleek but muscular, and from what he could see of it, it was very powerful.

"I said I don't want to fight," it barked and snapped Ayden out of his stance with a swift but surprisingly light blow between his shoulders. The young man toppled over as he let out a sudden yell. He landed in the dirt and tried to scratch his way to an escape but he was so panicked and shocked by the creature that his limbs weren't in tune with his racing mind.

A long claw-fingered hand reached out and grabbed the ghost by the thin hazmat suit. Ayden kicked and screamed in horror as he imagined just how brutally this thing that had haunted him his whole life was going to kill him. He was crazy to think his ghost powers would even stand up to it. The stranger smacked him in the back of his head, silencing the traumatized youth. Once his body slackened the creature released his grip and let the boy land in the dirt again. "Cut that out you little brat."

Ayden gasped and rolled over to prop himself upright on his elbows. His wide eyes tried to affix themselves to the horror that was the being but he couldn't comprehend it; he'd seen a lot of hideous things in his life but nothing that looked so atrocious. The thing sighed. "Look, I'm sorry kid." It extended its hand toward the boy who stared at the appendage in shock. Slowly he reached toward the waiting hand and hesitated for a moment before gripping it tightly. "There you go," it said as it raised him quickly to his feet.

"Thanks," Ayden murmured. He couldn't comprehend what was happening quite yet.

"Didn't want to hit you like that," it said. "But you're not exactly one to listen to reason though."

Blinking in vague understand Ayden stared at it in awe of its presence. "W-what are you?" he asked slowly. "How-how do you know me?"

"I've been here far longer than you have, your family moved onto my territory. I consider it my right to eavesdrop since you've had no problem invading my space." It leaped into a nearby tree branch so swiftly that it appeared like a black flash. Hanging upside-down it contorted its neck to stare at Ayden from an upright perspective. "I've been watching you grow up, you're afraid of me."

The half-ghost tried to swallow the piece of imaginary glass wedged in his throat. "When did you die?"

"I don't know, ages-a-go maybe. I might not even be a ghost though, it's been so long I can't remember if I've always existed like this or not." It quirked its head as it watched Ayden's tensed muscles shift involuntarily. "You never can tell now-a-days."

"So...what do you want from me?" he finally choked out. He was also more clairvoyant then his father had been. His senses were perfectly honed that he could see imprints whereas his father could only guess where they were. That also meant he could see, hear, and even touch ghosts or other spiritual things that no one even knew existed. His father hadn't known about this thing because he couldn't sense it and when he went looking for it he didn't see it; it was very likely he walked right through it a few times.

The creature made a sighing noise and clicked with what Ayden imagined had to be a tongue of sorts. "You know, I don't know. I always thought once I got you alone out here I'd kill you." Ayden made a choking sound and lifted one heel off the ground, ready to react to anything. The creature laughed. "But now that I see you, really _see_ you, I don't think that'd be as enjoyable. Besides," it seemed to be smiling, "we're like family."

"It was you." Ayden blinked. "You tried to lure me past the creek. My parents said they didn't hear anything but you sing," he said trembling and pointed a finger at the thing. When he was very young his mother and father had difficulty keeping him away from the small creek that separated the yard from the woods; he'd almost drowned when he was three. He'd never been able to explain the attraction he had to that spot, his memory held onto a fractured melody that drew him forward to the creek nearly every day. The creature was like a siren and it had almost ensnared him more than once. "Wait. You were trying to kill me?"

"For a while, I'd seen those ghosts try to do it as well. They feed off of you, you know." It slithered down the tree to display that while it looked solid it could spirit itself along the forest floor like a shadow. "Living things have energy," it informed, "and ghosts eat that stuff up. They especially like you, it's like some form of sick cannibalism. I always thought I should try feeding off energy too" he touched Ayden's left shoulder and felt the boy flinch. "But that doesn't seem to sit with me."

Ayden side-stepped to pull away. "You've been watching me all this time," he said. "So you must want something."

"What could I possibly want from someone like you?" it asked playfully. "I'm very old and I've grown quite accustomed to this place."

"What does that have to do with what you want?" he exclaimed suddenly as the creature pulled away and spun shadow circles under foot. Materializing behind Ayden it grinned as it realized the boy was holding his breath. It reached out and touched the back of his neck with all four of its fingers one at a time.

"I won't kill you, if that's what you're wanting." It pulled away and moved in front of him, inches away from Ayden's face. With one finger it reached up and rested the sharp claw against the boy's forehead. "You're marked. I cannot kill you it would ruin everything."

Ayden's eyes widened as he caught his breath. "W-what?"

The creature mimicked blinking for the first time. With a joyful screech it did so again and again as it had seen the half-ghost do since their encounter. "Your kind has made a mess of the world, some of you won't leave even long after you've been brushed off the mortal coil. Abominations the whole lot." It stopped and landed on a tree branch with taught aggression. "There are no devils or gods, just humans and the messes they leave behind." It seemed to be looking at Ayden. "And then there are those who aren't quite anything but they must stand for everything." With that it leaped into the darkness, shaking branches as it went.

"Wait!" Ayden cried and ran after it as fast as he could. He chased the thing deep into the woods, it seemed to get darker as he went but he didn't care. This thing probably knew more about him then he did and he was determined to find out why it had chosen now to disturb him. He ran and didn't think to fly, only to catch the creature that had a grip on his fate.

They stopped at a small pond that Ayden hadn't known about. The moon was illuminated in the water and the creature was standing on the bank pensively. "You shouldn't have followed me Ayden." Its scratching tone was shaded with seriousness.

"I'm not afraid," he asserted and stood forward firmly.

"You should be," the creature returned darkly. It turned its head to shift its otherworldly gaze over its shoulder; Ayden recoiled. "I was trying to distract them."

The boy blinked. "Wha-" He was cut short by the creature leaping on his him and holding his mouth and throat viciously as it kept its incredibly solid body on top of him.

It locked eyes with him, staring deeply into the terrified violet irises now turning blue. "Listen carefully."

Ayden gasped and choked as his air supply began to run low and he found his windpipe being crushed. He regretted his decision to follow the creature, it had tricked him. Reaching up defensively, he tried to pry the creature off or at least rip himself free. When this method didn't work he attempted to make himself intangible but he had been right about the thing in the first place, it was powerful and it was canceling out his ghost powers.

He couldn't believe he'd even thought to trust the monster. He hated himself for even believing for a second there was something bigger out there. How childish he was to still be seeking some sort of beautiful truth that could make him feel less alone. There was no truth, only lies. He cursed himself tenaciously even as his vision spotted and the bright glowing eyes began to be the only thing he could see. For an instant he saw a flash of bright light as he began losing consciousness. Jazz's words echoed through his head as he began to fall.

_When did you become so jaded?_

He should've told her, he could pinpoint the exact moment.

_

* * *

So even though I have most of this story and Invalid written out, I got into a funk and decided to go through and rewrite and revise a bunch of chapters. So...sorry I've delayed updating by a million years. I can't help it._


	7. Trauma

Chapter 7: Trauma

xxxx

"Ayden!" The piercing shout was loud and terrified. Vlad grabbed Ayden hastily just as Danny arrived at the empty pier. He had the boy locked in a one-armed grip and with his free hand he held a knife against his throat. Immediately Danny halted. He recognized instantly that he had to be concise and careful. If he acted too hastily he might get his son killed, and that scared the hell out of him. He would not and could not further jeopardize his son's life.

Ayden had never in his young life heard his father's voice at that pitch. The great halfa was scared and the boy didn't think he'd ever see a look like that in those green eyes. He became paralyzed with a fear he'd never experienced before. Suddenly it became very clear to the fourteen year old that this time was different. He didn't want his father to be afraid for him.

"Not another move Daniel or the little badger will rejoin his mother." The cool edge of a blade was pressed closer to his throat, a swift reminder of the compromising situation the boy was placed in. Danny retracted for a moment the words biting into his flesh.

The boy panicked; the possibility of dying had never really occurred to him like this before. If only he hadn't allowed himself to be tricked into wasting his own energy. He'd spent all his time fighting those faceless ghosts only to leave himself vulnerable toward the real threat. If only he hadn't been so reckless, Vlad never would've gotten him. He was so careless, so stupid, and this was all his fault.

"You wouldn't dare Plasimus," Danny growled his hands balled into to tight glowing fists. Something was incapacitating his son making him a powerless child, a child that needed his father's protection now more than ever. He wished he'd gotten here sooner, this was all his fault.

"You will join me Daniel," Vlad returned. "It's for your own good."

"I'm not afraid of you." Danny tensed as inconspicuously as he could, getting ready to spring into action and quickly snatch his son back; Vlad sensed this instantly.

"Really?" For a moment Vlad's hand wavered but then the point of the blade slowly pierced into Ayden's flesh, drawing blood.

"Wait a second-" Danny cried and looked wild eyed up at Vlad who looked down at him blankly. He didn't seem to care that in his hands was a human life; a life he was threatening to end.

The older man quirked an eyebrow and held his wrist still, the point still poised against the boy's neck. Ayden flashed a look of terror at his father and tensed. The son passed a look of understanding to his father, he knew what was going on. "Dad..."

"After all these years you still need to be put in your place."

"No don't!" Danny yelled. He took a step forward and outstretched his hand as though the action could stop the inevitable. Time seemed to ebb into an unbearably sluggish pace, the water didn't make a sound against the pier and the wind died instantly. The air froze as Vlad reapplied pressure to the handle of the knife and in an agonizingly slow fashion he tore across the young teenager's neck.

There was a moment of shock in which the boy didn't feel the motion of the knife as it ate through his skin but the blood told all. Ayden's breath hitched, he wanted to scream but he could only choke. Suddenly the pain was unbearable; it stung, it burned, it hurt and the weight of situation was crushing down on the boy's dignity. He realized he might die from this, the neck was vulnerable. Ayden began to panic but he couldn't find the strength to do anything about the knife dragging through his throat. He was supposed to be a hero but he couldn't even save himself.

In sheer horror Danny buckled to his knees. "Stop it, stop it! Vlad...please I'll give you whatever you want. Just don't..." He would stand down now, he wished he had sooner.

Blue eyes stared tear-filled at the father who was in full submission. Why wasn't he fighting? Ayden wanted to scream for him to get up so that he could save him just as he always had. But his voice was gone, replaced by a feeble choking noise that wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear. He was in too much pain and blood was pumping out of his throat quickly. All the fourteen year old could do was hang his head and let himself bleed, probably to death.

If anything happened to his dad tonight it would be his fault, his fault for not being strong enough.

"You know what I want Daniel," Vlad barked loosening his hold on the knife against the open wound. The damage had been done but the boy under his arm was still alive and the eldest halfa knew that was all he needed to persuade Danny.

Danny nodded slowly and mournfully. He swallowed his tears and forced his face and voice to be monotonously blank. "Then you can have me if you just let my son go. Let him live." Inside he was screaming hysterically.

"Say it."

Silence. Disbelieving green eyes flicked up through white bangs. He wanted to protest but the hold on his son had tightened again. He watched Ayden's knees bend and shake. The blood began staining his neck and his shirt; his face was pale and his eyes glassy with shock. Danny thought he was going to be sick, the sight was overwhelming. Ayden was losing too much blood, the wound was critical. Time was now of the essence and every move had to be precise and quick. As of right now Vlad had all the control, if Danny was going to do anything he would have to somehow get him to relinquish some of that control.

"You win." Two words spoken slowly and sternly that created a whole new silence and tension. It felt childish, an admission recalling back to his youthful years; a secret battle that had finally gone too far when it threatened the life of his only son. Those words sealed the deal, Danny was submitting and Ayden was to go free. Vlad Masters had finally found the weak point on Danny Fenton and sufficiently defeated him.

The aging half-ghost malevolently shoved the boy forward just as two faceless ghosts appeared beside Danny each violently seizing his arms to hold him in place. Ayden stumbled a half step and then fell face forward against the ground and did not rise. He was unable to walk on his own Vlad had been supporting his weight completely to deceive the father. Danny let out a sharp hiss and thrusted his body forward trying to reach the kid. His flesh and blood was shedding his life while he just stood there doing nothing. He had to be with him, his little boy couldn't be alone, not like that; he needed his dad to be there. He needed someone to keep him warm and safe, someone to calm his fears and comfort him.

"This wasn't part of the deal!" Danny roared as he seemed to be trying to violently pull his arms from their sockets just to escape. If only these ghosts would let him go.

"Too bad. He should've been stronger than that," Vlad brushed off callously waving his hand gesticulating a manner of rubbish. It was no concern of his whether the weaker Fenton lived or died. He'd had no intentions of playing fair and thought he had clearly demonstrated that by using the child as a pawn. Surely Danny should know by now that he had no trouble striking below the belt and making it count. He would never admit that he took full satisfaction in the miserable energy Danny was emitting. The Ghost Zone would sing his praises, he eliminated the young Phantom and captured Danny Phantom.

Danny's eyes flitted with panic toward the uneven shuddering rise and fall of his son's frail body as he breathed raggedly. In his mind he was begging Ayden to keep breathing, to hang on just a little while longer. But he knew that his will alone wasn't going to keep his son alive. He had to act, he had to fight, he had to save him. He had to because he was the only one that could.

His entire body tense as he gazed back at Plasmius. He shuddered as a primal rage overtook him and heightened his powers. With incredible force he created an encompassing ectoblast vaporizing the parameter surrounding his body. The two faceless ghosts were immediately lost to the incredible searing ecto-energy. A vibrant shade of green tinged white illuminated the area as it radiated from the body of the powerful hybrid. Malicious intent gleamed in the electric green eyes and violent desire controlled the frazzled nerves.

Danny's feet never touched the ground as he threw his entire weight into a full tackle at an unprepared Plasmius. He didn't see himself in any movements, anything that could hurt Vlad was all that made sense. He thrashed and he kicked and ignored any sense of humanity he'd ever exercised in battle before. None of that mattered, what mattered was destroying the offender with every source of energy he could gather. He wasn't just fighting him, he was killing him.

It was only until the defeated aged billionaire slinked away that reality hit the man.

For a moment Danny had to fight to recapture his mind, he had lost his sense of awareness while intoxicated by his own rage. He looked up, ignoring the injuries he had acquired. The reason he'd been so forceful came flooding back to him in an instant of raw fear. Suddenly the animalistic power was completely drained from his body as human urges became far more demanding. What if he wasted too much time, what if he was a minute too late?

The fight forgotten, he shot over to the figure that was his son and gathered the boy up, turning him over to see his face. Ayden seemed to drip out of his grip and Danny found himself regathering the boy in his arms. He held his son closer to his chest desperately fearing the shallow breaths would stop and the thin boy would slacken with dead weight.

"Ayden." The boy didn't flinch. "I'm here Ayden...don't be afraid. I'm right here little Ay." He brushed the boy's unruly black bangs from his pale face with a weak smile. Danny's hands were shaking violently as his stomach performed sickening back flips. "Ayden," he called again, swallowing the lump in his throat. Much to the father's dismay the boy stayed still.

He tried desperately to take comfort in the fact that even though there was steady flow of blood and seemingly no hope that the boy was still alive. Somehow the boy was still holding on and that meant there was still a chance he could be saved. Quickly Danny shifted his hold on him so he could activate his wrist communicator. Tucker was waiting on the other end ready to do what Danny asked.

"Tucker, got the location with the trackers? Send an emergency crew over here right now," he swallowed and looked skyward for a moment to grasp for the words, "it's Ayden." He didn't need to explain the situation because Tucker never questioned an emergency, especially one involving Ayden, everyone acted immediately to that distress call.

Danny readjusted the boy so that his head was resting against the nape of his neck. Having him close allowed the halfa to keep time on the short breaths against his skin. Desperately Danny nuzzled his son's raven hair with tears in his eyes that he forced away. He had to be strong, if his son saw panic then he would panic and right now Ayden didn't need to be afraid.

Considerably, it had been a long time since anything had wounded Danny so deeply. Seeing his son in this condition struck him straight through every nerve, every fiber of his entire being. He'd promised her that nothing would ever happen to him. The child was her gift to him and all he had left to prove she had ever existed. He'd promised her and he'd promised himself he'd be safe; he was supposed to protect him to put his life above all else. If Ayden died he failed, his first obligation was to be a father and if he couldn't succeed in that he couldn't succeed in anything.

"Hey buddy can you hear me?" He could feel Ayden's blood seeping into his clothes, he held his hand over the wound applying as much pressure as he could to try to fight the blood flow. It was almost as though his entire being was seeping out of the laceration and Danny was doing everything in his power just to keep some of it in his body. His son's breathing came in strangled gasps like he was drowning. He gave the boy a light shake, he just wanted to see those blue eyes looking back at him, then maybe he'd feel less afraid. "Come on kiddo give me a sign, _anything_, let me know you're okay."

Silence.

"Ayden please," Danny begged in a strangled voice, "I need to know you're still with me. Please baby, _please_."

A hissing exhale fraught with pain sounded and alerted the father. With sharp attention Danny watched the boy's pale face as two weary eyes opened faintly. "Dad..." he gurgled in a low whisper.

Danny pressed his forehead to Ayden's and cradled his frame tighter. The fear was beginning to well up inside of him and it was like losing her all over again. He could only manage to speak in a gentle whisper. "I'm here Ayden, you're going to be okay." He wasn't sure if that was close to fact but it was what he was willing to believe. It was what he had to believe in order to hold himself together. He was Danny Fenton after all, he was supposed to be the strongest boldest man with the most dignified composure.

"So...much..." Ayden took in a sharp breath and shivered with pain. "Ung..scared." His voice sounded so strange garbled with blood, as though he were breathing it in.

"Shh shh don't be afraid...don't speak. I'm right here, so are you, that's all the matters." He stroked his hair desperately as though it would alleviate the boy's struggle. "I need you to hold on for me okay Ay?" he coaxed gently giving the boy's cheek a light brush. "You're not alone I'll be right beside you." Nothing could tear him away from his boy, not now. He planned on being there until everything was resolved and he planned on fighting for him. "Stay with me Ayden, okay? Stay with me."

xxxx

"When can I see him?"

Danny was wringing his hands more than he cared to acknowledge, a strange side-effect he'd gained since becoming a father.

"He's still in surgery, sir."

Once he was a carefree, then he became some big-shot hero, and now he was a nervous wreck.

"I want to be in the room the second he gets out. Tell me, how is it going? I mean...well he's doing okay right? He's going to pull through?"

He was no longer allowed to cry in public or show any weakness.

"Well so far everything seems to be going smoothly, sir.

His image had suddenly dictated his life.

"Try not to worry so much sir, they're doing everything possible in there. He'll be alright."

If only he had avoided gaining his ghost powers all those years ago.

"How much longer?"

If only he had the power to turn back time.

"Can't say, sir."

No matter what kind of super-being people thought him to be Danny Fenton was still just as powerless as everyone else when it really mattered.

xxxx

"Ayden buddy, come on open those eyes up."

It was hazy and painful, the young teen felt a strange pressure on his neck and a multitude of different wires including two sharp needles dripping fluids into his arm. He looked up into the strange world of the white recovery room of the Medical Center on his father's compound. A grinning familiar face received him warmly, he felt the larger hand grip his own. He began to blink rapidly as he tried to make out the dark shape against the brightness. For a moment his eyes fell closed, much too heavy for him to hold, but he fought the want to sleep.

"There he is. How you feeling there kiddo?" Tucker asked in his calm rather cheerful manner. Beneath his smile was worry as he wondered if he could get a response, he had been told that there could be irreparable damage from the injury.

Ayden shook his head weakly he made soft rasping noises in attempt to relocate his voice. Vaguely he could hear his father softly reassuring him, telling him he'd be there. Aside from his surrogate uncle there was no one else in the room. The fear and desperation of the recent events washed away and were replaced with a twinge of betrayal. The great Danny Fenton had once again broken his promise, his stupid little lie he fed to a dying boy. He felt stupid for, even in his weakest moment, actually believing the comforting words. He couldn't stand it; why had he even bothered to hold on if it was all a lie?

The question clawed at the back of his throat until he couldn't hold onto it any longer. "...dad?" his voice scratched out in a low whisper, undoubtedly escaping through the new hole in his neck as it worked its way to his mouth.

Tucker's face fell slightly, the genuine grin replaced with a guilt ridden smile, weak in nature. His sea colored eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, unable to look the familiar blue eyes straight on. Some days it felt like the teenager was directly from the past, a strange time traveler torn from his youth to keep him company in the present. The personality was the stark reminder that Ayden was not teenage Danny, he was a completely different person.

"We got a lock on Vlad's location, your dad went after him."

The boy's heart dropped, his own father had left him all alone again. He didn't want to believe it, he wanted to hear that his dad was getting coffee because he had been up all night watching over him. All he ever wanted was for his dad to be his dad; he just couldn't stand to have to share him with the rest of the world. Deep down the boy was aching for the undivided attention only a loving dedicated parent could give.

Ayden looked despondently harsh, his features frozen with a stone cold gaze. He turned over to face his back to Tucker, he felt embarrassed to be a part of such a dysfunctional family. He was betrayed deeply and secretly hurt that his father didn't even consider staying behind just once. He really had been scared and couldn't remember ever being faced so definitely with his mortality. Going ghost was nothing compared to almost losing his life; he had been dying. He needed his dad to talk to him but instead the man chose his work over his son.

At that moment, Ayden decided he would never believe in the "great" Danny Fenton again.

xxxx

"He's asleep," the doctor softly stated as Danny returned.

He was well worn and exhausted from the battle he hadn't won. Danny had been trying to figure out just what that horrid monster was trying to accomplish; it couldn't have been just to capture him. Murder wasn't Vlad's style, manipulation sure, but Danny hadn't really believed completely that he could've done what he did. He just couldn't have, Vlad was a lot of things but he never crossed that line that would make him a murderer. He definitely wouldn't have thought to kill Ayden so violently without outside persuasion, but Danny didn't have all the pieces to support that theory.

Danny let loose a weak sigh to see the child, his child, lying in the hospital bed. This was the first time he had ever come face to face with Ayden's mortality and it was a little more than unnerving. Sure there were times when the kid had been beaten pretty bad or he'd been inches from being hit by a deadly strike, but never had he actually been mortally wounded and moments from death. Danny sat pensively while a night staff doctor drew more blood from the elder halfa to complete the second transfusion Ayden needed.

"Danny, as a doctor, I have to advise against this."

"He needs it," Danny urged solemnly his eyes resting over the form of his son. "I know, don't lecture me, that he can accept other transfusions but they won't heal him fast enough. If anything, any lesser will only deter his healing process, you know how this works. My ectoplasmic energy is strong, it's what he needs..."

He remembered the litany of injuries the emergency team had delivered. He also remembered that they added that boy had been lucky to be alive. The laceration was a bleed out injury, if Danny hadn't been there and hadn't acted fast enough, Ayden would've been gone in less than ten minutes. The very thought made the older man's flesh crawl; the idea that just a small passage of time could've ended an eternity for the young boy was frightening. It baffled and terrified him, that heinous concept of losing his son.

The steel eyed doctor gave Danny a pat on the shoulder. "You're a good man and your son, well, he's a good kid. Never met a parent so willing to go to these lengths. Stay seated though, this is going to exhaust you."

Dr. Leland was a friend of his, he'd been on the base for a very long time and had treated Danny countless times. He was always very gentle and even more so in dealing with young Ayden. Readjusting the smallest thing was met with meticulous precision. Danny had to remember to thank him for being so good to his son.

"Tucker mentioned Ayden woke up," Danny finally spoke with a crack in his voice. The guilt was eating him for not being there like he promised.

The good doctor sighed and rubbed the sands of time from his wrinkles. "Yes, he did."

"Did he say anything?"

The doctor eyed the nervous father sadly. Ayden hadn't said much to anyone but he did make a point to tell a prying nurse that his father was a bastard. Dr. Leland didn't have the nerve to tell Danny that his son had finally lost his patience. "You'll have plenty of time to talk with him when he wakes up."

He wrung his hands weakly and rested them in his lap with a heavy sigh. "Will he wake soon?"

Another bout of silence. "We had to sedate him. The neck wound is still very sensitive and very susceptible to being reopened. He is fairly weak and really shouldn't put any unnecessary stress on himself."

Danny gave a nod. "I understand." But he didn't want to.

Once the last drop of the needed blood had been taken the old doctor went to work replacing the emptied plasma bag with the filled one. He was slow and fluid and completed the action as though it were an extension of his being. Then he left the room with the unspoken plan that Danny could have some alone time with the boy.

Illuminated by the gentle light of a machine and the crescent moon, Danny weakly walked to his son's bed. There was a chair classically positioned at the side of the bed but Danny ignored it and sat on the bed beside his son, he needed to be so much closer. He gathered the limp unresponsive body in his arms and cradled him against his body. Drained physically and emotionally, Danny could think of nothing else to do but hold the boy close and hope the nightmare would end. There was a lot of things he regretted in the world but nothing weighed more heavily on his shoulders than the moments his personal mistakes destroyed the lives of those around him. Especially the lives of the people he loved.

He looked at Ayden and gritted his teeth; this was his fault, he did this. Guilt wracked his nerves, pulling them until they were raw and short circuiting.

"I'm sorry," he said blatantly. "I always knew things would go too far but it was never supposed to go this far. This wasn't what I wanted for you and I tried for so long to keep a lot of the worst things from you. I just...I don't know, I don't want you to see what I've seen."

He looked up toward the ceiling wondering if there was any formally written apology he could read. Clearly he owed one to Ayden for having brought him into this part of life that even he never wanted. He was supposed to be a man of eloquence and impeccable speaking skills but now he couldn't seem to find any words let alone words of value. He was scared, he couldn't bear to imagine the pain Ayden was experiencing, or the reality that he had been minutes away from losing him.

Ayden breathed so deathly quiet that it furthered the grating on his father's nerves. He wished the boy would nosily announce his presence so that maybe he wouldn't have so much to fear. But that seemed to be Ayden's way; he favored silence and it probably stemmed from his agitation towards always having to defend himself.

"This never should have happened to you. You never should have lost your mother, you never should have been subjected to this kind of horror. Your mom and I, we never planned for this...but God, I was so stupid, so naive to think I could have shielded you from it all. God what you must think of me..."

Danny wasn't sure what he was doing or why he was talking. Ayden probably wasn't getting any of this and never would. Even if the boy were hearing this he wouldn't be listening. Ayden was clearly losing all respect for his father and Danny would have to be a fool not to know it. Danny wasn't a fool but sometimes when it really mattered he was a coward. The truth of the matter was that Danny couldn't look his son in the eye and admit that he knew he was failing as a father. The man feared one day he wouldn't be there for Ayden and what he left him with wouldn't be enough. Obviously it wasn't enough, Ayden had just barely survived, had he been alone who knows what the outcome would've been.

He wished he could take away the curse he had bestowed upon his offspring. He wished he could be around every hour of the day and support his son without distraction. Sighing he looked out the window seeking guidance from anything or anyone that could offer it. The truth was he couldn't do the things he wanted for his boy and he would never be able to no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't change the past but he was willing to work toward a better future for him and his son. He loved him with his heart and soul and he just wanted the boy to know that.

"I promise, we'll figure all of this out." Danny stroked his son's hair again thinking of the unbearable mess Ayden was born into. "Just never forget that you are Ayden Fenton and no one can ever take that from you."

* * *

_Too much college for me to write, I miss writing. _


	8. Of Human Emotions

Chapter 8: Of Human Emotions

xxxx

Johnny turned over on the uncomfortable futon he'd been trying to sleep on through the night. Rubbing his head with a groggy moan he looked at the clock; three a.m. blinked red into the small dark room. He thought vaguely to himself for a moment. He could go back to the Compound now or he could spend the remaining three hours sleepless in his father's spare room. It wouldn't be unusual for him to go back at this hour only because Ayden had no sense of time. He wouldn't even notice the peculiarity of the hour. Johnny secretly believed his friend's ghostly nature inhibited him from conceptualizing time like most people. Three a.m. was a casual time for the half-ghost to be consciously occupied with some activity, no matter how menial.

Slowly the blond man ran a hand through his shaggy bangs that rested about the sides of his face. His eyes stared forward blankly into the dark; Johnny was restless at an unusual hour. He routinely slept soundly through the night and woke, on an average day, just after sunrise. If he was sleepless he was worried, something was wrong; his trained instincts alerted him to a state of unrest. He didn't know why but he couldn't shake the feeling that Ayden wasn't safe.

He sat up and draped one arm around his knee while dragging his palm down his face. The feeling was so strong he was having trouble rejecting it; he cursed Ayden. He hated this. Three a.m. was a terrible time for his friend to be in trouble. But Johnny knew it was very plausible that the idiot was in trouble at this very moment. He grabbed his dark brown jacket quickly and stole away silently from his father's house. He'd explain later, and as always Dash would be proud.

The drive was tense, Johnny gripped the top of the steering wheel as he barreled down the interstate road that lead to the FentonWorks compound. Two miles stretched out in front of him, seemingly endless. In two miles he would get there and in two miles he would know the truth. Ayden would either be safe at home or he would be in trouble. Johnny wouldn't think of the worst because he couldn't bring himself to entertain a single dark thought, not tonight.

As he pulled up to the house he immediately noted that it looked as though someone was home. Lights illuminated the half shaded windows ominously, even if there was someone inside they would be hard to see. Johnny approached the steps with great trepidation and found that the front door wasn't locked. Throwing open the door, he walked at a fast silent pace into the house so as not to alarm anyone inside. He had to be fast but stealthy to avoid disturbing his friend. When he got to the living room he found the television still playing but no one was watching. Looking toward the kitchen he saw the the glass slider door that led to the back porch was wide open. His breath caught in his throat.

Johnny raced out to the deck and stared fearfully into the dead darkness that surrounded the backyard. All he could see was what the star shine allowed. There were no ghosts mid-flight and no glow of energy being exchanged. Most notably his friend wasn't standing on the deck smoking a cigarette, leaving no reason for the slider to be open. He audibly clenched his jaw in tight anxiety. What if there had been a fight and he was too late?

Clenching his fists, Johnny forced his eyes to dart across the empty backyard in desperation. "Damn it Ayden..." He stepped into a run, ready to search the perimeter for any sign of his missing friend.

Running down the stairs Johnny felt his teenage fears coil tightly around his mind. After he and Ayden turned fourteen Johnny finally saw just how dangerous a superhero's life could be, not to mention how short. Since then he'd been terrified of losing his best friend; Ayden meant the world to him though he never said so. He understood why Mr. Foley and Mr. Fenton were still so close after all those years, they'd cemented their friendship once they saw how uncertain life was.

Meticulously, Johnny surveyed the yard. He sought a clue, any clue, that Ayden had been there at some point in the past hour. Footprints, items, blood, Johnny was looking for it all. He could not shake the morbid thought that he might also find a body.

The leaves rustled faintly and the sound of something dragging alerted Johnny. He turned in the darkness and saw a dark shape making its way toward him. Standing defensively, Johnny clenched his fists. The shadow moved slowly toward him in an uneasy pattern, the closer it got the more it revealed itself. First he could only hear the dragging from its inhibited walk but then he started to hear heavy ragged breathing. Soon his eyesight focused on the figure and caught specific details. There was a half-hearted smile and pair of determined looking blue eyes on a worn shaded face.

"Johnny," he greeted in a low grainy voice. He let loose a short laugh to cover the fact he needed to catch his breath. "What's going on?"

Ayden came to stand a few feet from Johnny, he looked up at his friend gratefully. He winced and gripped his left arm, which was hanging loosely at his side, and smiled to mask the pain. His blue eyes searched him trustingly as he yearned for a legitimate answer to his question. He couldn't remember how he lived and he figured his friend's appearance had something to do with it. He wanted to know what Johnny had done to save him from the demon.

Johnny shrugged away an explanation. "Ayden, I don't know," he stated slowly as his eyes inspected his friend. He'd been hurt, no doubt about it, and possibly concussed which would explain the confusion. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"If you don't know," Ayden began and clenched his jaw to stifle a whimper, "then why did you come? You must've known something was happening or you wouldn't be here, it's still dark, so it must be an ungodly hour." He smirked.

The blond boy did everything in his power to bury his concern and awe. He never could understand how Ayden could endure and act like nothing hurt. Obviously he was injured and it looked bad but he didn't seem phased at all while anyone else would probably be on their knees. A dark thin stream of crimson red was forking out on the side of Ayden's grin, it was disturbing. "I just had a feeling," Johnny returned weakly. At the moment logic didn't matter, he was just relieved his friend was alive.

Ayden lowered his head with a repressed scoff. "So then it wasn't a double-cross, who'd have thought," he said aside to himself. That thing hadn't been a ghost and it hadn't been trying to kill him. The half-ghost wasn't sure but he had an idea that it had sent for Johnny.

"Just what the hell happened, Ay?" Johnny asked loudly. "What'd you do to yourself this time?"

Ayden snapped back to reality and looked up at Johnny. He smirked again. "I guess I'm a little out of practice."

Shaking his head, Johnny felt his thoughts calm at the normalcy of the situation. Later he'd laugh at himself for being so paranoid; nothing had been wrong, he'd completely over-reacted. "Come on," he beckoned lightly, "let's get you back inside."

Once in the house, Johnny sat his friend down at the bar in the kitchen. Fidgeting for a moment, he finally decided to clean up the half-ghost and to hell with his pride. His friend had been hurt and he'd be lying if there wasn't a protective part of him that was outraged that he hadn't been there for him. The least he could do was offer was give him a hand with his injuries.

"Man, I thought I was a goner," Ayden said casually as Johnny dabbed at the cut under his eye.

"What happened out there?" Johnny asked again, he was dying to know. He was sure it wasn't really something incredibly interesting aside from a routine ghost fight, but Ayden was always one to have all kinds of new surprises up his sleeve.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Ayden responded. He decided not to fight his friend who was so kindly assisting him.

Johnny paused and put aside the reddened cloth and eyed the young hero. Ayden's injuries were superficial at best, most of them would heal over the course of day; so why was he so bewildered? Immediately Johnny became suspicious, the way Ayden was talking it seemed the fight had been anything but routine. "Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Try me."

Ayden shook his head. "Hell, I don't even believe it." He yelped as his friend took a hold of his left arm to inspect it. "Ow, man be careful."

"Is it broken?" he asked in his militaristic tone. Ayden hated when he talked like that, it made him sound suspiciously calm.

"Sure, probably," the half-ghost affirmed snidely and yanked the useless appendage from the warm grip. "It'll be fine in an hour or two, I'm sure." He cradled the arm gently with his workable hand and let his eyes rest on the imposing form of his friend. "Do you have to worry this much?"

"I think that's why you pay me," Johnny retorted snidely. With a sigh he crossed his arms and met his friend's scowl. "You don't have to be so defensive all the time, we only grew up together." Ayden looked away. "There's nothing I haven't seen before," he added gently.

He lowered his eyes to the ground. "I know," he mumbled begrudgingly. Johnny wasn't exaggerating he'd just about seen everything happen to Ayden.

He let out another yelp as Johnny snatched the injured arm back. He smirked as Ayden's body jerked in shock and surprise, the boy was one hell of a drama queen. "I don't think its broken."

"Oh?" Ayden shot back venomously, unwilling to pry his searing limb back from the vice-like grip. "Then what _do_ you think?"

"Dislocation at the shoulder." Ayden winced and Johnny's gaze softened. Both men knew ghost powers couldn't heal dislocations, there was only one way to fix that kind of injury. Readjusting his hands in the correct places, Johnny heard Ayden's breath hitch. He waited for him to collect himself and prepare for the pain. "Hey," he said softly, "if you want to scream you can."

Ayden turned his head toward his friend and glared resentfully. "Just do it, you bastard."

Fixing a dislocation was easy, especially if it wasn't a first time dislocation. Johnny had put enough of Ayden's joints back into their respectable sockets to know how to do it quickly. An anterior shoulder dislocation was probably the most routine for Ayden, Johnny could practically see it a mile away. Danny had taught Johnny the proper way to relocate the injury when he was thirteen, it had been an unintentional lesson, but the elder half-ghost had thought it would be beneficial for him to see and know. Since then the injury had reoccurred more than either of the friends cared to count. But despite Johnny's skillful precision he knew he couldn't make it hurt any less.

Swiftly he bent Ayden's elbow at a ninety degree angle and brought the arm steadily inward toward his chest. Ayden hissed but he didn't flinch. Johnny held onto his wrist and took his upper arm into his grip as carefully as possible. Then he slowly began to rotate the arm outward, coaxing the shoulder back into the shoulder joint. Relief came to both boys as a loud popping noise sounded, announcing success. Gently Johnny gave Ayden his arm to cradle at a ninety degree angle.

"Good as new." Ayden looked pale, though he'd never tell his friend that he was in incredible pain. "Can I get you anything?"

"Yeah," Ayden responded with a grin, "I could use a drink."

xxxx

An hour and one drink later Johnny was downstairs in the guest bedroom fast asleep, leaving Ayden alone to himself. Leaving Ayden alone was seldom a good idea especially when he was in one of his "moods". Tonight was no exception. Ayden had done a superior job of insuring his best friend didn't catch on to his destructive behavior. Slowly, the raven haired young man ascended the stairs in a bleary haze. His mind was elsewhere.

Quietly he stalked into his father's room and stood in the doorway, allowing the warm hallway light to fall across the floor. The young heir hadn't set foot inside the room since his father's death and could not for the life of him understand why he was standing there now. The room was pale and cool, what little light made its way in threw exceptionally long shadows across the walls. When Ayden was young coming to his dad's room was supposed to be a comfort, a safe zone, a place where no one could get him. Now there was nothing here to protect him and he realized that all long this room was just a room. There was never anything special about it, it was not what had kept him safe.

Slowly the half-ghost shut the door and walked over to the unmade bed. The scent of his father lingered faintly and Ayden crinkled his nose. He brushed his hand over the disheveled sheets absentmindedly. Danny had been anything but a neat freak, but he had tried to maintain a certain order in the household though some things went overlooked. He'd always been busy after all, the bed was unmade because he had been too busy to make it.

"Busy dying," Ayden mused aloud bitterly.

He sat on the folded over comforter shamelessly and stared at the bedside desk. There were two drawers on the table and as a child Ayden was forbidden from opening the top drawer. He did open it once when he was sixteen though.

Pursing his lips Ayden rolled back onto his palms and sighed. Johnny had only gone to sleep an hour ago and since then the raven haired youth had been ingesting a steady flow of alcohol. Nothing could quite ease the pain in his shoulder or quiet the torrid thoughts in his mind. Nothing was ever strong enough. There was more in the house, plenty more, but he just didn't want it; there had to be something stronger. There just had to be something that could make everything hurt less or not at all.

What a beautiful thought, Ayden marveled. How wonderful it would be for the pain to just go away. At this point in his life he couldn't even begin to explain why he felt the way he did, he supposed there was too much for him to sort through now. The years had accumulated and he couldn't recall a time where his life was at its best. He wanted to believe life was good when his mother was still around but he could hardly remember her now. All the memories seemed to have fallen like sand through his hands.

Silently Ayden pulled the top drawer open and gazed inside. There it was, as it had been when he was sixteen, a simple hand gun and a box of bullets. He wondered if it helped his dad sleep to have such a weapon beside him at night. Ayden had never seen Danny use a gun before, aside from an ecto-gun. He wondered if he was a good shot or if he could reload in half a second like a professional marksman. He would never know now. Without a second thought Ayden pulled the gun out from its home.

Everyone on Team Phantom discouraged the use of weapons, especially a gun. It was one of the main reasons his father had shipped him off to Valerie's one summer for intensive physical training. The rest of the team made use of ghost weapons, things that couldn't kill people only ghosts. On very rare occasions Valerie was known to tote a gun but he'd never seen her use it, he'd only seen it nestled safely in a holster on her side. Team Phantom tried to maintain a positive image by avoiding the use of guns. Supposedly this made the organization appear benevolent, articulating that no member would ever harm a human. Ayden always thought that was funny.

Holding up the gun he checked the chambers and was surprised to find that it was almost fully loaded. Maybe the old man had taken it once to practice and had just forgotten to put it away properly. Although the idea didn't really settle well with Ayden, his father was a freak for safety. God forbid there ever be a loaded gun in the house with Danny's only son, especially a gun that wasn't locked away in some containment device. All Ayden's life every weapon in the house was not accessible to anyone unless they had proper identification and key codes to disable the chambers and locks Danny had designed. Which meant everyone on Team Phantom, except Ayden, had access to all the weapons. Ayden had access to the thermoses and that was all.

There was a moment of lost thought in which Ayden sat clutching the crafted piece of metal in the empty dark room. Slowly his disjointed thoughts came together as he cradled the gun closer to his body. How many times had he thought of suicide in his life; probably too many to realistically count. The strange thing was that tonight, as he circled that old idea, he was doing so in a different sort of way. He was detached from the notion of life. People, places, things, he didn't need any of them and they didn't need him. A realization was coming to him, one that confirmed that he was as worthless as he felt.

To be or not to be; Ayden decided he didn't need to be.

In a glint of moonlight the metal flashed handsomely as it was drawn up to the temple of its wielder. Maybe he was drunk enough to do this or maybe he'd finally grown the spine he'd been too afraid to grow when his father was around. Finger on the trigger, Ayden swallowed now sound of mind. He could do this, he would do this, and everyone would live happily ever after.

"You are making the wrong decision."

Ayden's already taught nerves recoiled, his hand lost control for a moment and the weapon clattered to the floor. Wide eyed, the half-ghost looked behind him to the source of the booming voice. Hovering a few inches off the ground was the ancient ghost of Time. His deep red eyes seemed to be locked on the boy. Ayden exhaled the breath he'd been holding as he gazed blearily at the ghost. For some reason he had expected the visitor to be someone else, he was relieved to find that it was not.

"Clockwork," he muttered under his breath, not willing to relinquish the new found anger flowing through him. How dare he interrupt such a personal moment; how dare he interfere with such a personal decision. "To what do I owe this intrusion?"

His father had always been very subservient to the ancient Master of Time. He had told his son to never disrespect the ghost, who was not only a family friend but also a very important being. Danny seemed to have looked upon Clockwork as something divine. Rhe omnipotent creature could see more than anyone in the Universe and had more power than he let on. But if he was so great then, Ayden reasoned, why had he not bothered to save either one of his parents? Surely, they of all people, deserved his protection. Hadn't they been good; hadn't they been loyal?

"You are selfish, Ayden Fenton," the ghost chided monotonously.

Still relatively drunk, Ayden stood up with clenched fists. "Hey!" he growled. "Just how the hell do you know-"

"I know everything." Clockwork gave the boy a challenging look. "Your actions carry a much greater consequence than you know. I cannot allow you to take your own life when there is so much more at risk."

"What is it with everyone? I don't want to be here, don't you get it?"

"Don't be such a child," the ghost returned and shifted to a youthful image. "This has nothing to do with your life being precious. Spare me the dramatics, please." It was the first time the ghost had spoken so harshly to a Fenton. The ancient specter didn't have time to waste by being soft and he knew Ayden to be insufferably stubborn.

Ayden glared at the ghost of time daringly. He would not normally be as disrespectful to this trusted ally but he was barely in control of his own emotions. He knew better, he really did. "Alright, where is he?"

"Excuse me?"

He couldn't keep his eyes from wandering as though he expected to find a third member to this party. "My father," he spat. "Where the hell is he? He sent you didn't he?"

The ghost clutched his staff and eyed the boy who was still just a child. He gave him a sympathetic shake of his head. "Ayden, you know Daniel is gone."

For a moment the halfa's eyes flickered to a shocked sadness. "I know but..." He looked desperately to the ghost for some sort of explanation. Something about that statement just wasn't registering with the youth. Sure he knew he father died but he didn't count that as the end.

"There is no Danny Phantom any more, your father has passed beyond my, or anyone else's, reach. He does not exist in any realm, human or ghostly."

"What does that mean?" he questioned harshly, locking eyes pugnaciously with the specter.

"Your father has moved on." Clockwork noted the low hiss Ayden involuntarily emitted through his clenched teeth. In an instant he detected pain in those familiar blue eyes and watched curiously as Ayden began the process of swallowing his feelings. The ghost always thought it strange that this boy did such things to himself. Humans were emotional creatures, it was in their design. For all Clockwork knew, he could never quite understand why the young protege rejected his ability to feel. After all, rejecting his emotions went against everything he was.

"That's it, really?" Ayden questioned loudly. He gripped the bridge of his nose and gritted his teeth while a disenchanted smile worked it's way onto his face. Throwing back his head, Ayden released a twisted delirious laugh that did little to unsettle Clockwork. "The great Danny Phantom dies and it's all over just like that?" He released another dry laugh, it sounded to the ghost like it hurt to do so. Finally the boy's face relaxed as he sighed and lowered his head, his unkempt black hair shaded his face.

"That's really it then..." Ayden murmured in a low scratching voice. Clockwork didn't need to answer.

There was a hesitation in the human standing before the ghost. Ayden seemed to waver as though the shock itself had knocked the wind out of him. Was it possible for someone who had been there his whole life to just completely disappear? A part of him had thought that even though his father was dead it hadn't meant he was gone. He had been Danny Phantom after all; so why had death changed that? Ayden ran a hand through his hair and swallowed the notion like a jagged pill. Now he knew for sure, his father had left him.

"So what do you want from me?" he asked in a hushed tone. When no answer came Ayden's head shot up fiercely. "Damn it! What the hell do you need me for? What does anyone-"

"Ayden your father and I were, as I considered, friends," the benevolent ghost began, cutting the near hysterical halfa short of his irascible rant. "I know you think you have no control over your own destiny. What you do not understand is that you are in every way responsible for whatever time stream occurs. I see every situation as they are to be presented, including probable tangents. I cannot say what path is taken or who will come or go but I do see and I do know the base consequence of each action," the shifting ancient explained calmly.

Ayden's mouth was half open as he tried to follow his thin stream of consciousness just what the ghost was talking about. He wasn't sure what Clockwork was trying to convey to him.

"Time is not, as your father learned, set in stone. I am only interjecting, young Ayden, because I respected Danny far too much to let you throw away everything he'd ever done. Your selfish desires carry a consequence far greater than you comprehend. This choice is not yours, like it or not, the world needs you. For once in your wretched life can you think of others over yourself?" the ghost looked levelly at Ayden with no apparent emotion written on his face.

"What are you saying?" Ayden grunted through gritted teeth, his head down again. This specter was giving him a headache.

"If you are to die tonight the world will end."

Ayden's eyes widened in the dark room. It was as if someone had suddenly sent a volt of electricity up his spine. He processed the words and suddenly choked on a gasp. How could anyone be ready for this; he didn't want to believe what he had been told. This was a nightmare, a horrible alcohol induced terror. A larger part of him refused to let him deny the truth that had been set before him. The ghost made no move to assist the youth as he crashed to his knees. He gazed over the trembling form of the boy who he had stricken with such grim news. Ayden grasped at his hair firmly and shook his head back and forth.

"No, no, no," he protested sharply. "You can't do this to me, you can't. I didn't ask for this, I didn't want this...You can't just...you...no."

"Ayden," the ghost said.

"No! I'm not...Th-this is too big..."

"Ayden," Clockwork repeated, this time more forcefully.

"This is all that bastard's fault! If it wasn't for him-"

"Ayden enough!" The boy silenced his hysterics immediately. He had never in his life heard the ancient wraith raise his voice. "Hush, you're acting like a child."

"B-but I hate him..."

"Stop that. Your father is not to blame for the responsibility you have been given. It will do you no good to reject what is ultimately true; it makes no difference what you wanted. And," he added sharply, "despite your callous front Ayden you loved your father as much as he you. You may hide this from everyone else, but you cannot hide this from me."

"You don't know that." The boy gripped his knees inconspicuously and kept his head bent, his eyes locked on the floor. The Master of Time noted that the lack of tears and the enraged denial meant the boy had yet to mourn his father. A strange feat for any mortal, burying emotions was one thing but to be able to reject something so lugubriously profound was quite another.

Clockwork gazed at the young man sympathetically. What a weak species humans were, they were so easily made vulnerable. Yet, as he inspected the defeated boy he couldn't help but feel a soft spot for the creatures. They had an amazing capacity for emotions that were networked together in intricate complexities. Only love could provoke such pain like this and vice versa. "Of course not," Clockwork responded gently. He turned to go but paused in reflection, knowing he was leaving behind a very unstable youth. "You know," he swore he felt the boy's head lift, "even Danny cried for you."

* * *

_I'm back. For those of you unaware I took an unexpected hiatus after losing a close friend. I'm not abandoning my stories, especially not this one, I'm just really busy because I'm trying to move into an apartment and so it's work work work and no play. I will be around, hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently. _


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